Rainbows and Storms
by 66samvr
Summary: Shy and sensitive, Vera Kingsley always assumed the Hunger Games would never happen to her. Now she's got no choice but to fight her way through this death sentence. Based off AmericanPi's Raindrops. SYOT closed.
1. Rock And Roll All Nite

**Hey guys! Vr here! This is just a little side story that takes place in a separate universe from my SYOTs. It's based off AmericanPi's story Raindrops and follows a similar concept. So enjoy!**

* * *

_You say you wanna go for a spin_

_The party's just begun, we'll let you in_

_You drive us wild,_

_We'll drive you crazy_

* * *

My heart is pounding like crazy in my chest and it honestly feels great. I can't believe I'm here. It feels so surreal.

I'm so excited. I'm so, so, so excited.

"Where's the band?" Angie yells over the noise of the crowd.  
"Give them some time, they're probably getting ready!"  
"But I'm bored!"

The crowd's not that big. Maybe what, two hundred people? But still, we're rowdy and we're loud. I giggle to myself as some older guys jostle me, almost spilling their drinks. Mom would kill me if she knew this was what the concert would be like. Conveniently, I had left that part out.

Angie's dirty blond hair is a mess. I can't imagine I look any better. The guys eventually bump each other too hard and cheap beer spills all over the grass. Angie scowls and I just laugh.  
"Ew, VR! They're such slobs!"  
"I know! What can I do about it?"

Angie scoffs and then her eyes light up. The band is here.

Five guys trudge onto the stage. They're a few years older than us, maybe early early twenties? Their faces are covered in crudely done makeup and they wear these tight black pants under leather jackets. One of them grabs the microphone and the feedback squeals through the speakers. We all jump. I cover up my ears.

"WHO'S READY TO ROCK!?"

"We are!" Angie and I scream, along with everyone else. The lead singer bursts into laughter. He pumps his fist into the air and they launch into their first song.

I've heard of these guys before, but I've never actually been to one of their shows. I know a few of their songs, and all of their names. Westley Gears, the lead guitarist. Paul Mulroney, the lead singer. Dustin Powell, the bassist.

But the person I'm most interested in is the drummer.

Their name's Whyllis Shears. They have a tangles mass of long blond curls bouncing off their shoulders as they howl into the microphone. Long, thick black streaks go across their cheeks and they wear purple lipstick. Purple! Where does one get such a colour in District 10!?

Paul's singing now and I'm mouthing the lyrics along. Angie shimmies in place. But I can't stop staring at Whyllis.

Will they ever notice I'm here?

"VR! Don't just stand there!" Angie grabs my arm and twirls me around. "Come on, lazybug! Let's dance!"

I laugh and do as she says. The music continues to play. Everyone is having a good time.

Whyllis Shears doesn't leave my mind all night.

* * *

It's almost midnight when I finally get home. The house is dark. Huh. Maybe I can slip into bed without noticing.

But the door opens up to reveal my mother in her ratty bathrobe. She gives me a look. I know exactly what she means.

"Vera-Ryanna Kingsley."  
Uh-oh. Full name.

"I'm sorry Mom, I lost track of time. The band started half an hour late. I know, I'm sorry. I'll be more responsible next time-"  
"Vera-Ryanna, if you continue abusing our trust like this, there won't be a next time!"

I freeze. Tears flood my eyes. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. Don't cry, VR. Please don't cry-

Mom puts an arm around me. "You're fifteen now, Vera-Ryanna. We want to be able to trust you. But how can we-"  
"I know! I promise, I won't do it again!"

I honestly don't wanna cry over something as stupid as staying out too late. I don't wanna cry, period. I hate how something as simple as getting yelled at is enough to break me down. Well, Mom's not yelling. But knowing she's upset is already too much.

"Again, you're old enough, honey, We can trust to make responsible decisions. Now go to bed. You've got the Reapings tomorrow."  
I sniff and wipe the tears from my face. I hurry upstairs, feel off my clothes, change, then jump into bed and stare at the ceiling.

I had a good day today. I'm not gonna let that one thing ruin it. I need to stop crying, now.

I toss and turn for a bit before finally falling asleep, dreaming to myself of rock and roll and Whyllis Shears.

* * *

** Here's the protagonist, Vera-Ryanna Kingsley! If that's too long, you can call her Vera or by her preferred nickname, VR.**

** Submissions are now open! Yes, I will be accepting tributes for this story. Just note that because the entire story is in VR's POV, your tribute will not be featured as much, though I will try and give tributes as much screen time as I can. This will be first come first serve. I have no limits on what tributes you can send though I probably will accept a maximum of three tributes per person. More info can be found on my profile.**

** I hope you'll enjoy this story!**

** -Vr**


	2. A Day In The Life

**Here's the second chapter! Most spots are still open and the form is up on my profile.**

* * *

_Woke up, fell out of bed_

_Dragged a comb across my head_

_Found my way downstairs and drank a cup_

_And looking up I noticed I was late_

_Found my coat and grabbed my hat_

_Made the bus in seconds flat_

_Found my way upstairs and had a smoke_

_And somebody spoke and I went into a dream_

* * *

I like to sleep in on weekends and during the summer. But I'm up early anyways.

Today's the Reaping. In District 10, it happens in early afternoon. I believe other districts have it earlier. But because it eats up so much time, most of my day is pretty much shot. I can't stand not doing anything. If I just lie here asleep, I'll know that I'm missing out on precious time to do something productive.

The thing is, there's not much to do.

I pull myself out and grab a paper lying on my desk. It's the latest chapter of a story I'm writing. They started a Writer's Club at school, where people can come in and discuss their stories. I suppose I should go more. but I don't think the people there miss me that much.

It's not like my writing is actually worth anything.

I love to write and come up with cool, crazy stories. In a way, it's kinda therapeutic. All these emotions I feel, I can take it out on the pages and the characters I create. After all, it's easier to rip into a sheet of paper than into a human being.

I tap my pencil against the paper of think about...nothing. I can't come up with anything. And it's frustrating because I've been stuck on this stupid chapter for weeks. But I don't know what to say or how to get past it.

There's a knock at the door.

"Ria! You awake?"  
I rub at my eyes. It's my dad. He's the only person who ever calls me Ria; it's like a special nickname. I honestly don't mind. My full name is a mouthful anyways.

"Yeah."  
Dad opens the door. "Good. Breakfast is almost ready."

I chuck the paper and pencil back onto my desk. Kicking off the blanket, I trudge downstairs. Breakfast is ready indeed. It's simple, pancakes with jam. And it smells good.  
Only my parents are downstairs. My younger brother, Alan-Johannes, must still be asleep. I don't wanna wake him up. His room smells. Plus, I'm hungry.

Dad hands me a plate with two large pancakes on it. I take the jar of strawberry jam (my favourite!) and smear it all over one pancake, before flipping the other on top. A pancake sandwich. Mom sighs and sips some meager coffee. Clearly, I didn't learn this from her.

Dad's woken up Alan, who trudges down the stairs. Upon seeing Mom, he squeals "Mommy!" in a high-pitched voice before tackling her. It's annoying, really. He's going to be a teenager soon and he still acts like he's five. Of course, he gets away with it and I'm the one who's always supposed to be mature.

"Knock it off, honey," Mom says, pulling Alan's arms off her. "It's time to eat."

We're all now seated now, and everyone has some pancakes on their plate. I cut into my little pancake sandwich. I chew as quietly as I can, trying to block out the other noises. But I still hear it anyways. The way my entire family chops loudly on their meal. Alan's mouth hangs out and I can see the mashed up pancake inside. Disgusting.

I lean on one hand, covering up my ear. I don't want to seem rude, blocking everybody out. But I hate that sound. I hate it so much. I hurry up with the rest of my food. I need to leave the table now, before I can hear it again.

"Mom, can I go to Angie's house? I promise I'll be back for lunch."  
Dad and Mom exchange a quick look. "Of course honey. Provided that you watch the time and come back at eleven thirty-"

"I know!" I shout over my shoulder as I race upstairs and change out of my pajamas. I don't pay too much attention to what I'm wearing, just a shirt and some shorts. I know Mom will want me to dress up later, but for now I can wear what I want.

I'm out of the house a few minutes later, to avoid any more nagging. Angie's house is not far, it probably takes me less than ten minutes to walk. On the way, I notice someone from Writer's Club. I feel a twinge of guilt, thinking of all those abandoned stories sitting on my desk. ideas I can up with, created, and then...

I wish I was more motivated. But sometimes, the spark dies out. I haven't been to Writer's Club since I brought the first draft of one of my stories, only for it to be completely ignored. I stay to one side of the road, hoping that I can't be recognized. I don't want to think about it anymore. Not while I'm still on summer break.

Angie's home. From the sounds I can hear outside, so is the rest of her family. The door's open before I can even knock. "VR! Hi!"  
"Hi Angie," I say shoving my hands into my the pockets of my shorts. "I hope I haven't missed breakfast!"

"Ah, too bad. It's all gone. By the way, the show last night was awesome! Where did you find these guys?"  
"The same way I find all of my favourite bands. By stealing someone else's music."

Angie cackles. "Okay, that's funny." I grin at her and we hear her mother from inside the house. "Angela! Is that Vera? Oh, let her in!"

Angie grabs my hand and pulls me in. "Come on, VR! Tell me more about those guys! Especially the bassist! He's kinda pretty, no?"  
"What about Whyllis?"  
"Who's that? The drummer?"

"Oh my friend," I laugh as Angie continues to drag me up to her room. "You've got so much to learn."

* * *

** So, here's the second chapter. This story will be a rather short one. Definitely won't have as many chapters as my completed SYOTs, and I'm aiming for 1k-2k words per chapter.**

** Many spots are still open! Because of the way this story is, I'm not going to request designated bloodbaths like I usually do; you're free to submit whoever you'd like. However, in order to free up space for everyone, I am only accepting a maximum of THREE tributes per submitter.**

** Revirws, as always, are greatly appreciated! Whether you're just dropping by to say you're reading or giving some constructive criticism so I can improve the story, I'm thankful. That being said, this is a short SYOT written purely for my entertainment and your enjoyment. Let's try and be positive about the whole thing; any kind of insulting or hateful comments directed at anybody will not be tolerated.**

** I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, where we've gotten a look at Vera's daily life.**

** -Vr**


	3. You're My Best Friend

**Spots are still open! You can find the form on my profile!**

* * *

_Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had_

_I've been with you such a long time_

_You're my sunshine_

_And I want you to know_

_That my feelings are true_

_I really love you_

_Oh, you're my best friend_

* * *

For a while, I sit with Angie in her room, and we talk. No specific topic, truth be told. Boys, friends, family, school, homework, life, the past, the present, the future. But I'm fine with that. She's happy hanging out with me, so I'm happy. Really, I love spending time with Angie. She's so cheerful, caring, and she doesn't give a damn about my insecurities.

"Let's go the backyard," Angie says during a lull in conversation. "My dad kept all the archery stuff."  
"What archery stuff?"  
"Remember how we had a shooting team at school?"

Oh yes, I remember now. We were both on the team, which basically consisted of a dozen kids who met in the gym every Tuesday afternoon after school to shoot arrows at targets. It was run by Angie's dad, who's a teacher. Then some rich parent complained and it got disbanded in the early spring. It was fun and it gave me something to do. I miss it a little.

"All the targets and bows are in my dad's shed. He lets me practice sometimes. I've gotten really good," Angie brags. She punches my shoulder. "Want me to show you?"  
"Sure."

We go downstairs and head outside. Angie unlocks the shed. It's a little dusty, but all the bows are in good condition. The targets have some new holes in them, probably Angie's doing. I wriggle my fingers. It's going to feel strange pulling the bow's string back; I haven't done it in three months.

We set up two targets, then fill two quivers with arrows. I choose a long bow, because it's the one I know how to use. Angie decides to challenge herself by choosing a smaller one meant for a younger kid. I have no doubts she's practiced with it too. I wonder if she's ever touched a crossbow before.

The targets themselves aren't that impressive. Just two painted sheets of paper pinned to wooden slabs. They have rings on them in different colours, each worth a different amounts of points. White, black, blue, red, yellow. I've never hit the yellow. Perhaps on a lucky day, I can hit the outer ring of red.

Angie goes first. She hits the red. 7 points.  
"Are we keeping score?' I ask.  
"Do you want to?"  
"Nah. I just wanna do it for fun."

"No score," Angie confirms as I load an arrow and take aim. Instantly, I realize I've forgotten which way I'm supposed to hold the bow. I'm left-handed, so it should be opposite to the way Angie holds it. Which way am I supposed to be facing? Do I turn away? Does it even matter that much? I can learn to shoot the opposite way, right?

I eventually fire. The arrows flies sideways and lands in the grass a foot before the target. I curse and almost drop the bow on my foot. What the hell was that!? I'm better than this!

"Oh cheer up, VR." Angie pats me on the back. "Nobody gets a perfect bullseye on their first shot."  
"But I'm not that bad! I can hit the target!"  
"And you haven't touched a bow in three months. You'll get better eventually."

She's right. I've gone that long without any practice; unlike Angie, I don't have a shed dedicated to archery equipment. From here, things can only improve.

Angie goes again. She only scores a six this time, but we're not keeping score. It's my turn. I miss. Angie hits the red outer ring again. I finally hit the target, but at the very edge. It splinters the wood, then falls loose to join my other arrows into the grass.

By now, I'm beyond frustrated.

No. I am _not_ going to cry over something so stupid like this. I keep my eyes shut for three seconds. The tears go away. I'm not going to cry.  
"Are you okay VR?"  
"I'm fine."  
"Wanna try again."

I take a deep breath to calm myself down as I nook in a fourth arrow. I take my time aiming and pulling back the string. My fingers feel a little sore, but it doesn't matter. I will hit that target eventually. I've done it before.

It hits the target.

It's on the edge of the paper and it's worth nothing, but I don't care. I've finally done it.

Angie claps her hands together. "Yaaay! VR, you did it!"  
"I did it! I shot it!"  
"That's great!"

Angie loads up her bow. She lands in the yellow, right outside the centre circle. It's a great shot. Almost perfect. I clap for her and feel a slight twinge of jealousy. No, I shouldn't be jealous. Angie's my friend and I should be happy for her!

"Do you think I can hit a bullseye?' Angie asks.  
"You probably could if you stood a little more to the right."

Angie takes my advice. this time, she lands right on the line. It's a crazy shot; I don't think I've ever seen anyone hit something like that.  
"How long have you been practicing."  
"I dunno, maybe half an hour a day."

"That's a lot of practice," I say as Angie rips all the arrows out of the targets and loads them back into our quivers.


	4. Paperback Writer

**Thanks to everyone who's submitted a tribute so far! Spots are still open!**

* * *

_It's a thousand pages, give or take a few._

_I'll be writing more in a week or two._

_I could make it longer if you like the style._

_I can change it 'round,_

_And I want to be a paperback writer,_

_Paperback writer._

* * *

I step inside Angie's house briefly to check the time. It's about a quarter to eleven. I still have a lot of time before I've got to pack up and head home.

That's when I hear footsteps outside.

"I think someone's here," I say to Angie, and that's when there's a knock on the door. Her older sister opens it. It's some friends from school I know Angie hangs out with. I know their names: Jess, Sadie, and Manny. I suppose they might be my friends too, but I just feel there's no big connection between us. Then again, I've been missing out on a lot of Writer's Club meetings.

"Angela!" Sadie says, throwing her arms around her. "We thought we'd come and stop by!"  
"Cool!" Angie gives me her bow as she goes to greet her friends. Apparently, they all met when auditioning for our school's play. They're a big event because they are so expensive to run, so it's a big commitment. I helped out backstage a little. But for some reason, I was always the last person to know about meetings.

"Hey VR," Jess says to me and I smile a little. I like Jess. She's a bit weird and always talks about death and stuff, but she's harmless, really. I just get that feeling from her that I don't get from Sadie or Manny. Like she actually wants to hang out and get to know me.

"Where have you been, girl? Writer's Club misses you."  
"I know, I wish I could've come for more meetings. I was just busy." That's not entirely a lie. My mom runs a daycare for younger kids and I help her out a lot after school. It's fun. I like kids. I'd probably lose my sanity if I was the only caretaker, but other adults show up and my mom's responsible for keeping so much order.

But at the same time, I just haven't felt like going to the meetings...  
"I liked your story," Jess continues. "You know, the one you wrote when we were assigning prompts? That was cool. Are you continuing it?"

I want to tell her that I'm trying my hardest, but Sadie cuts us off. "Ew, that one where she was married to a rich and famous rockstar? Ugh. I thought that was stupid. VR just wrote about herself and her fantasies!"  
"No..." I mumble, glancing at the bows in my hands. My cheeks burn. "It was just..."

"I liked it," Jess retorts. "It was really well-written."  
"Self-inserts are just poor taste," Sadie sniffs and my eyes sting. She think my story was bad, she hates it. Sure, I based the main character off myself. But at the same time, I wrote it when I was going through some major shit and I needed to get something out. I wrote because it made me feel better. Writing makes me feel better, makes me feel happier...

"I thought it was okay," Angie replies and somehow, that hurts more than Sadie's comments. Just okay. My writing's just okay. I blink back tears. Another reason I've skipped out on so many meetings. I can't sit there and listen to these people who display their work that's so much better than mine and laugh as they call themselves untalented garbage. If they're untalented, what does that make me?

"It was stupid," Manny laughs. I brush the tears out of my eyes and shove the stupid bows into Angie's hand. "I've gotta go."  
"Hey, we're sorry!" Manny shouts as I stomp through the house. "We were only joking!"  
"Yeah!" Sadie adds. "Why you gotta be so sensitive?"

Now the waterworks come and I'm trying my hardest to calm down as I run out onto the street, then slow into a quick pace. I keep my head down so nobody can see me. Why am I so sensitive? Why am I so different? Why can't I just be like everyone else? Why do I have to be this way?

Someone grabs my shoulder. It's Angie. "Hey. Are you okay?" Jess comes running up behind her.  
"Yeah. I'm fine."  
"Are you crying?"

I pull my arm away. "No...I just...I got something in my eye."

They don't believe it. It's probably the fact that I use that excuse every single time I'm pretending I'm not crying. Nobody comments on it, which gives me the false hope that the excuse might've worked yet again. But I'm only fooling myself. I sniff, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

"Anyways, I need to get home. My mom will kill me if I'm late."  
"See ya later, VR," Angie says as Jess gives me a worried look. I turn around and continue on my way.

I'm still pretty early when I head home. My mom looks up from her book. "How was it?"  
"It was fine."

I head upstairs. Mom calls after me, telling me to change into some nice clothes for the Reaping. Personally, I hate dressing up for the Reaping. What are my parents expecting, that the Victor of the Hunger Games is determined by who has the prettiest dress?

I still change anyways. I put on a grey skirt and a beige shirt. I smooth my clothes out, then run a brush through my hair. It's not that long, but still gets tangled easily. It's a very light brown and on sunny days, my dad says it has hints of red. I've always wanted to try changing the colour, just for fun. I want to see what it looks like.

Lunch is a mix of leftovers. Meat, bread, maybe some vegetables or fruit. There's really no shortage of meat to choose from, it's 10's specialty after all. We all sit around the table. It's quiet. I don't like it when meals are this quiet because...

They chew like animals. They smack their lips together every damn time. It's loud. Too loud. Dad has always been the main culprit, but Mom isn't exactly silent either. I cover up my ear again, cocking my head to one side. Alan smirks and hangs his mouth open. He leans up to me as close as possible and I shove him away. Dad frowns. "Be nice, kids."

I want to say something back, but a shouting match is the last thing I want. So I drag my feet across the floorboards and shift around in my chair. I try to block out every other sound. I can still hear it. I don't want to. I shovel down the rest of my food, paying attention to my own chewing. I don't want to call my family out on it because then I'll seem like a hypocrite. Not that it matters. They'll forget by dinnertime.

If anyone notices, they say nothing because we're all fast eaters anyways. I'm the first one done. I dump my dishes into the sink and head upstairs. We'll have to leave soon.

I try paying attentions to other sounds. I notice my breathing and slow it down a little. I hear some birds outside. The papers on my desk have moved a little. I feel a twinge of guilt. I could've finished these stories a long time ago. Why haven't I? Why don't people like them?

I find a second chapter to one I was writing beforehand, the story Jess loves and Sadie dissed. I could continue it. I could keep going. I could block out their funny little "jokes", their mockery, every little thing they say that brings me down. I don't need to listen to it. Why can't I just tune it out?

_Don't be stupid, VR! You're writing for yourself, not others. It makes you happy. Who cares if one single person hates your story?_

"I do," I say, out loud without even realizing. "I care."

The pencil hasn't moved. I haven't sharpened it in a while. There's nothing stopping me. There's nothing holding me back. There's nothing in my way.

"Kids! It's time to go!"

I give the pencil one last longing look but I don't touch it. Maybe I'll write after the Reaping. Maybe that will give me the motivation to continue doing what I love.

It's a long wait, but it's got to be worth it.


	5. Dreamer

**Thanks for all the participation and support! Almost all spots are filled!**

* * *

_"Dreamer, you stupid little dreamer_

_So now you put your head in your hands, oh no_

_"I said, "far out, what a day, a year, a life it is!"_

_You know, well you know_

_You had it comin' to you_

_Now, there's not a lot I can do_

* * *

It's hot and sticky, which doesn't help considering how crowded the square will be today. After all, very few people can skip out on the Reaping. It's funny to me that those who are exempt are those on death's door, considering how two kids are picked to die each year.

I always feel a heave in my stomach, but I have to remind myself that my odds are very, very low. I've only got my four slips; never once have I ever needed to pick up tessarae. Alan has even less slips. He's only got the one for his first year eligible and of course, he's not happy about it. He drags his feet and Mom and Dad push him along. "I don't wanna go!"

"You have to go," Dad insists. "It's a mandatory event."  
"I don't care!"

I wish I didn't have to go either. I wish the Reaping never existed. I wish the Hunger Games were never a thing. I can't be the only one. But I don't say a word to anyone because the Peacekeepers could kill me for stuff like that. I hope they don't because as far as I know, the Peacekeepers in 10 are pretty lenient. So much so that they buy from our marketplace and leave us alone when the school lets us practice archery.

Maybe in other districts...

I wonder if that would make a catchy story. Someone who stands up to Peacekeeper bullies. As I line up to check myself in for the Reaping (with Alan pouting behind me), I start coming with the story. My main character would obviously be someone from the districts, but I can't decide which one. Besides that, he's going to be an 18 year-old boy so Sadie can't accuse me of inserting myself into the story as the protagonist. Maybe I could pop up as a side character to piss her off?

"Name, please."

I quickly utter my full name and the Peacekeeper scoffs at what a mouthful it is. He checks me off in a little book and I hear a beep on the screen behind him. Then a second Peacekeeper leads me to where the rest of the 15 year-olds are. I crane my neck backwards and spot Alan joining some classmates before more people pile in and I'm forced away from the edge. I don't like being in the middle. there's too many bodies, too many people. Everyone's talking at once, fighting to be overheard above the noise. It's easy to block out, though.

I don't think much of the chatter and I can't spot Angie or Jess anywhere. It's fine, They don't have to hang around me all the time anyways. Sometimes, it's nice being alone. You don't have anyone placing their pressure onto you, nobody to compete with, or knock you down. Sometimes, you can be your own worst critic.

I guess that's true with me.

The chatter dies down gradually. The Reaping's about the begin.

There's a refreshing breeze the passes me by as the typical procedure plays out. It hasn't changed in the four years I've been doing this and I highly doubt it will. The video they show is extremely dated, but I have to look away, not wanting to see all the blood. I've memorized the entire Treaty of Treason and it's nothing new at this point.

District 10 is lucky to have had a victor; some districts don't have any. Her name's Cheyenne Coulis, Victor of the 13th Hunger Games at age 18. She's probably in her mid-twenties, though I don't feel like doing the math right now. But we all like her as she slowly walks up in a simple grey dress with her dark brown hair neatly behind her back. We all clap politely. It's too hot to do anything else.

Now the escort's appeared. It's been the same escort for a long time, Rhiannon Nikks. She's got to be thirty by now, her appearance obviously altered. Bright blonde hair with pale pink streak, wide eyes too green to be normal, a poofy black dress with lace sleeves. She looks like a witch.

"Nice hair," someone snorts, but I have to disagree. In comparison to other Capitolites I've seen on TV, Rhiannon's alterations and clothing are tame in comparison. Plus, I've always wanted to change my hair colour. It would be so wicked to go from a boring light brown to something crazy, like green. But hair dye is expensive, even for me.

"Welcome to the 20th Hunger Games," Rhiannon says in that clipped accent of hers. That's the only thing about Rhiannon that truly bothers me. The way she raises her voice at the end as if to ask a question, the sense of superiority in her posh tone, that random hissing at the end of every "s" that sounds completely off. I know it's hard not to do, but I can't help not pointing it out. It feels uncomfortable.

Rhiannon continues onward. "And may the odds be eve in your favour. Now, let's proceed, shall we? Ladies first."

As Rhiannon slowly retrieves a slip from inside the bowl, I feel my heart pound, just like every year where I cross my fingers and pray that I will be spared. It's a selfish way of thinking and I always feel a bit guilty afterwards. The odds are in my favour. They have to be!

"Vera-Ryanna Kingsley!"

My heart is beatify violently in my chest. I feel sick. Dizzy. My breaths start speeding up as well and I can't slow them back down. _One. Two. One, two, one, two, one two, one two, one-two, one-two, onetwo, onetwo one-_

"Vera-Ryanna! Is there a Vera-Ryanna here? Last name Kingsley?"

I clutch my hands together. They feel cold. I double over and begin to hyperventilate. Suddenly, I feel a gloved hand on my back as a Peacekeeper yanks me from the crowd and marches me up to the stage. My cheeks burn and my entire face feels like it's on fire. I want to slow my breathing and control myself, but I can't. I wrap my arms around me and glance out at the sea of pity.

The panic fades.

And the tears fall.

I cover up my mouth because I don't want to cry. Not in front of the district, or my family and friends, or the cameras. I feel so stupid, weak, and pathetic. _Why you gotta be so sensitive?_ I wipe away my tears and try to gaze past everyone. I don't want to make eye contact. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

"Any volunteers?"

_Volunteers!? Yes! Someone, please! Please volunteer! Please take my place and save me!_

It's silent.

Rhiannon gives me a concerned look before saying something that I don't quite hear. The reality has sent in. Nobody is coming to save me. Nobody cares that much to volunteer for me. I sniff quietly and take a deep breath, before something inside of me breaks and I'm having another panic attack. Rhiannon picks a second slip.

_ Why you gotta be so sensitive?_

I can't think of anything else right now. All I can think of is the way I must look to my district, to my loved ones, to the entirety of Panem.

_Fifteen year-old Vera-Ryanna Kingsley has just been Reaped for the 20th Hunger Games and sentenced to her death._

I can see it now. Rat-faced Careers with forked tongues and sharp teeth in a circle around me. They carry knives, swords, spears, and daggers. They giggle at my obvious plight. I'm an easy target, a harmless kill. All I can hope for is that when my time finally comes, I won't be in so much pain.

Rhiannon calls out the male tribute. I just stare at her in shock. Because until now, I thought my day couldn't get any worse.

_ Are you fucking kidding me!?_


	6. Goodbye Stranger

**Only a few more spots remain!**

* * *

_Goodbye stranger _

_It's been nice_

_Hope you find your paradise_

_Tried to see your point of view_

_Hope your dreams will all come true_

* * *

I sigh to myself and dump my face in my hands. I can feel my cheeks get hot and I don't want anyone to notice. But nobody's looking at me anyways, thank god.

Nope, we're all watching Whyllis Shears stomp up to the stage. A Peacekeeper touches his shoulder. "Fuck off!" He screams and the crowd gasps. Rhiannon seems to be...surprised, for lack of a better word. I honestly can't tell. Cheyenne perks up slightly as Whyllis comes up on Rhiannon's other side, arms folded. He's wearing a ripped blue top and black jeans. His blond hair is held up by a striped bandanna and I guess the curls aren't natural after all.

"Any volunteers?" Rhiannon asks. No response. Whyllis scowls, as if he was expecting one of his bandmates to save him. I feel awkward because he's so much different than the loud fast drummer I'm used to seeing. Normal. He's a kid, just like me.

"Tributes, shake hands!"

Whyllis grabs my hand and I'm not surprised by how strong his grip is. His palms are rough and calloused. I blush because I can't believe I'm doing this. I've always wondered if Whyllis knows who I am. I always figured if I showed up to enough shows, he'd have to remember me eventually.

I just wish we wouldn't meet like this.

The Peacekeepers grab me and pull me into the Justice Building. They bring me to a musky room that smells of...I don't know. Maybe something died in the walls?

I collapse against an old velvet couch and start sobbing. Again. I feel so pathetic, but I can't bring myself to do anything else. My fate is sealed. I am going to die. How the hell am I expected to respond to that!? Who wouldn't burst into tears when they realize they've been chosen for a game design to kill them!? What do I do!?

I'm not strong. I'm not fast. I'm not athletic. I'm not popular, good-looking or charismatic. Last year's Victor, Royal Bauer, was the super popular, handsome killing machine from District 1. He convinced everyone to sponsor him over his allies, which gave him a huge advantage. Why would someone choose to sponsor me instead?

The door opens and my family files in. I can't read their faces. Are they scared? Angry? Upset? I blink back tears, because they look like they're disappointed in me, but I don't know what I did wrong. I hate it when I get that look. I don't know what I can do to make things better.

The silence is unbearable. My dad smacks his lips together and the sound wants to make me punch a hole in the wall. "I'm gonna die..." I whimper, because I don't know what else to say. The reality is finally starting to set in, as much as I don't want to accept the truth. "I can't win, I'm gonna die..."

Mom's face softens a little and she gives me a hug. I wipe the tears from my eyes. They sting my arm. my family gathers around me but nobody says anything. I realize that what I've been telling them is true. They're not going to sugarcoat it for me.,

I'm going to die.

"You have a chance, Ria," Dad tells me. "I know you're a very smart girl and you're a very talented girl."  
"They've got trained 18 year-olds. They'll kill me. I can't win."

"Careers don't win all the time," Dad reminds me. "You can surprise them all."

I don't know how to respond. I don't feel smart or talented. I can't surprise everyone with some hidden skill. I can't think of anything I can do that some other tribute could probably do better. Mom takes my icy hands and place something in them. I uncurl my fingers to reveal a small clay circle with some twine threaded through it. I remember making this as a gift when I was very little.

"My baby girl," Mom whispers, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear. "I want you to know we love you very much."

My family pails in for a group hug. We stay like that for a few minutes before I pull away. Suddenly, I hear a gruff voice call out, "Time's up!" and my family gets up to leave. My parents give me small smiles. Alan just shrugs with glazed eyes. I take the clay and place it around my neck. it feels a bit funny. I never wear jewellery, not even for special events.

I don't hear anyone else outside, and I feel a heavy pit in my stomach. But at the last minute, Angie slips inside. She stands by the door, kicking at the carpet. It seems like she wants to leave as fast as she can. I don't comment.

"Well...this sucks, doesn't it?"  
"I suppose so," I say.  
"Good luck, V. I know you can do it!"

I just nod and Angie leaves as quickly as she came in. The pit in my stomach returns and I have a feeling nobody else will visit me today. The Peacekeepers are back. One grabs my arm and drags me along. I realize that we're boarding a train. The second I'm on, the door slams shut behind me.

I don't know what else to do, until I notice Rhiannon, Cheyenne, and Whyllis sitting at a table. There's a bright flash of cameras, but I'm the only one startled. I hear a faint _woooosh_, and the train begins to move, taking me away from everything I've ever known.

* * *

**Finally, we're leaving District 10! What do you think of the people we've met so far, such as Rhiannon, Cheyenne, and Whyllis?**

**Also, I'm just letting everyone know, this is the last chapter before I close submissions. I need all tributes in by next chapter, so I can continue story progress. If I don't have all the submissions I need, I will create Bloodbaths myself. That being said, the next update of this story will be on NOVEMBER 20th. All tributes will be due by then.**

**Thanks for all the support so far!**

**-Vr**


	7. Eye of the Tiger

**Submissions are now closed! Thank you to everyone who's submitted a tribute!**

* * *

_It's the eye of the tiger _

_It's the thrill of the fight_

_Risin' up to the challenge of our rival_

_And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night_

_And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger_

* * *

Cheyenne folds her hands together, surveying us both. "Let's not beat around the bush. Would you two like to be mentored together or separately?"

"Separately," Whyllis says almost immediately. He doesn't even look at me. Cheyenne doesn't wait to hear me out either.  
"That can be arranged. Keep in mind, there's only one of me. What will happen is I will mentor one of you and Rhiannon will mentor the other."

Cheyenne is staring at Whyllis as she says this and everything clicks. She's choosing to mentor him because she think he's the better shot. I'm useless to her, probably already written off as some Bloodbath fodder. I feel a little more clear-headed now, finally used to the motion of the train speeding down the tracks. "Hey!"

I feel someone pat my shoulder. It's Rhiannon. "Don't worry, hun. I've mentored for twelve years before I brought Cheyenne home. Plus, we'll arrange a switch, so you can speak to her if need be."  
I nod, glaring at Cheyenne. I haven't even been on this train for ten minutes and already my mentor thinks I'm going to die. I don't want to cry over it. I have to remind myself the time for crying is over.

"They'll be broadcasting the recaps soon," Rhiannon says. "If might be a good idea to watch and get our first impressions of the tributes."  
I agree and it seems Cheyenne does as well. Whyllis huffs loudly, but follows us to the end of the car where some couches have been set up in front of a TV. It's turned on and the screen is lit up by the seal of Panem.

First up is District 1. They've always done pretty well, especially since last year's Victor was from 1 himself. There's a loud applause for Royal Bauer, before the names are called and a 12 year-old girl named Yttria Foxe climbs the stage. Suddenly, there's a loud clamour for volunteers and a 15 year-old girl with curly auburn hair runs up to the stage, head held high. She introduces herself as Opal Lumen. I frown. She looks so much stronger and taller than me, and we're the exact same age!

Another boy is called, Jet Islong. He's soon replaced by 17 year-old Bartelby Richmond, who has pale brown skin, neatly combed hair, and a very relaxed atmosphere. He simply walks up, but raises an arm into the air and everyone cheers. I clutch my hands together as District 2 comes up next.

18 year-old Roma Geoff barely makes it onto the stage before she's replaced by a girl of the same age, a volunteer named Cindra Heath who's barely taller than me. She practically shoves Roma aside and whips her auburn hair over her shoulder as the crowd roars deafeningly. I squeeze my hands together as she yells in victory.

But here's where things get interesting. A 15 year-old boy named Troy Jong is called. The crowd claps politely for him; he's fairly tall and well built despite his age. He looks out into the crowd, waiting for the volunteer. But nobody does. Not a single sound is heard. Polite applause, but Cindra scowls at her district partner, who lowers his head in shame.

Whyllis scoffs. "What an alliance! Especially compared to last year's showing."  
I don't respond as Rhiannon shushes him. But already, something's whirring in my mind. Are Careers supposed to be this young? Especially when so many of their Victors were a lot older?

In District 3, an 18 year-old girl named Delta Marris is reaped. A loud laugh echoes over the crowd as she walks up, giggling to herself. She doesn't look her age, with short blonde hair, pale skin and blinking blue eyes. A boy the same age, Russell Orange, is called up next.

Suddenly, another boy is tearing through the audience, screaming that he volunteers. He quickly says that his name is Gayle Apollox before placing a kiss on Russell's cheek, which pretty much confirms how these two know each other. They tearfully pull apart and the crowd claps.

In District 4, a sixteen year-old named Quincy Burnett bounds onto the stage almost immediately after the escort calls for volunteers; a note at the bottom of the screen points out that Quincy is non-binary and is to be addressed with the-them pronouns. Whyllis hums in agreement. A boy the same age named Anthony Morrison also volunteers, giving Quincy a big hug on the stage. They're both blushing.

The Careers are a very a mixed bag, I think, As District 5 rolls up. Flynn McIntyre is Reaped, a 17 year-old boy with a strange look in his blue eyes, almost as if they're sparkling. He gives a few nervous smiles, pushing the blond hair from his face.

He's joined by a girl a year younger named Stephanie Tansen, but suddenly, a much younger girl is running up to the stage. Her sleeves have been rolled up, revealing tattoos underneath. She introduces herself as Karen Angenellis, the future Victor of District 5. She growls into the mic and there's a scattered round of clapping; she's only 14, despite it all.

District 6 also produces a volunteer. Her names is Abril Schumacher and she's the same age as me, volunteering for an 18 year-old girl named Lanna. She's very mousy and lanky. A boy who's a year younger is Reaped, Ethan Keddy. He looks a lot healthier than Abril, but neither seemed too thrilled to be standing onstage.

"What a turn of events," Cheyenne mutters as District 7 becomes the first district not to produce any volunteers. A tiny 13 year-old named Sitka is Reaped, and she walks up with her lips pursed together and her hands firmly against her hips. I shove my knees together. How is it that this little thing is mature enough not to cry? Am I the only one who cried at my Reaping?

17 year-old Tyrone Quinifus walks up to the stage without a complaint. Despite the drama of all these volunteers and reaped Careers, 7 manages to stand out by having a normal Reaping.

In District 8, both tributes are 18. The girl, Ellie Corzin, is called first. As she walks up, she seems really composed despite the few tears that roll down her cheeks. What I really notice about her is that her eyes are different colours; one blue and one hazel. It's a bit mesmerizing and I've never seen anything like it before.

It takes a few minutes, but Damask Weave finally stumbles from the crowd and onto the stage. For the most part, he looks like the typical district citizen, but his clothes are surprisingly colourful and vivid. I glance at Rhiannon, because it seems like the outfit a Capitolite would wear.

Another 18 year-old for District 9; Magaz Hector looks rather well-built and almost surprised, but the shock quickly drains from his face. He's joined by 13 year-old Teff Bran, but Peacekeepers practically have to haul her onstage. She's frozen in shock, the poor thing. I feel so sorry for her.

Then my face appears.

I don't want to look. I feel so out of place, with my mouthful of a name and my red blotchy face from crying. The entire nation has seen me on the very verge of a panic attack. Unlike all those kids who kept it together or were crazy enough to volunteer, I've got to look the weakest. Not even the younger ones cried when their names were called.

Whyllis scoffs. Of course, he's made a much better impression than me, because he looks like he actually has a chance.

Nobody says anything and I'm finally relieved when it's District 11's turn. And I know that it's cruel, but I actually feel less shameful when the name Basil Garland is called and a scrawny little boys bursts into tears. He shakes as he walks up and he's the youngest tribute by far, only 12. The same age as Alan.

Another 12 year-old, Jane Dough. The second she gets on the stage, she begins to snap her fingers impatiently in the escort's face, talking back to the confused older man. The crowd laughs; even Whyllis and Cheyenne smirk. I don't react because I know I'm not brave enough to do it to anybody.

In District 12, a 13 year-old girl named Maryann Loorker, hurries up to the stage quietly, green eyes darting around nervously. She's joined by a boy of the same age, Leo Pamtorth, who makes his first impression by stomping up the steps and scowling with folded arms.

Just like that, it's over.

Talk continues over the unusual ages of the Careers, as well as the numerous outer district volunteers. Cheyenne suddenly grabs Whyllis by the arm, pulling him to a separate car to talk strategy. I'm sitting alone with Rhiannon across me. I feel somewhat envious, because it's obvious Cheyenne wants nothing to do with me. I blink back tears.

"Tsk tsk," Rhiannon says sharply. She rolls up her lace sleeves. I realize that I can see some wrinkles under her face and bags that have begun to form under her eyes. Most Capitolites would've done something drastic to remove them.

"Well, it won't do us much good just sitting here." She looks up at me and her eyes soften. "Oh hun, please don't cry. This isn't my first rodeo and I promise, I will do everything to help you succeed. Any advice Cheyenne tells you, you'll hear from me first because I taught her everything she knows. Now, let's strategize."

* * *

**Whew, what a big chapter! There was a lot to unpack here, but we finally got our first look at all the other tributes! Who stood out to you the most? Which tributes do you want to see in action?**

**The chapters will likely get a little bigger once we hit the pre-Games stuff and definitely in the actual Games. That being said, this still will be a pretty short story. But I want to showcase each and every tribute as much as I possibly can from VR's POV so everyone has a moment to shine.**

**Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

**-Vr**


	8. We Don't Need Another Hero

**More story talk going on over at my Discord Server! If you want to join, PM me and I'll send you a link!**

* * *

_Out of the ruins, out from the wreckage_

_Can't make the same mistakes this time_

_We are the children, the last generation_

_We are the ones they left behind_

_And I wonder when we are ever gonna change?_

_Living under the fear, till nothing else remains_

_We don't need another hero_

* * *

The next hour is a new level of painful. Rhiannon quizzes me hard on all sorts of things. Do I know how to tell edible plants from poisonous ones? How fast can I run? Can I start a fire for warmth, or a snare to catch my food? If I was given a sword, could I wield it properly? How well can I patch up my injuries?

I can tell from the look on her face that my answers don't please her. I fidget nervously in my seat. I don't like taking tests, especially when I know for a fact I'm not going to do so well. But for this particular test, if you can't pass, you die.

"This may come as a shock, but you probably know a lot more survival skills than you realize. Do you know how to build a fire?"  
"Yeah. You need lots of dry branches and some bark for kindling. My dad taught me a few ways to prepare it."

"Good," Rhiannon says in approval. "But...if I was in a closed shelter, should I start the fire?"  
"No, never do that! If you don't burn your shelter down, you might inhale too much of the smoke and die!"

Rhiannon nods. "See? You recognize that an indoor fire is fatal. That's important. There have been some tributes in the past who didn't survive because they didn't know this important information. What do you like to do for fun, hun?"

"I don't know...I like to write...I like music..."  
"Any sports?"  
"Ew, no! I hate sports!"

"Do you have any other hobbies?" Rhiannon asks. "Everyone has a hobby."  
I quickly debate with myself whether it's a good or bad idea to reveal the nature of the archery club, but if the Peacekeepers haven't said anything, then maybe Rhiannon won't either. I just tell her. Her eyes suddenly light up and she clasps her hands together.

"Oh, perfect! So you do have experience with a weapon then!"  
"Shooting targets...and I'm not very good at it."

"Then you learn. And you practice. Practice, practice, practice! How else would you expect to get better?"  
"Maybe I use a weapon I'm talented with?"

Rhiannon shakes her head. "I don't believe in talent. Nobody is born talented. We would never do the things we're 'talented' at if we didn't enjoy them. If you take your time, and you put the effort into practicing, I promise you that you'll get better."

Her words are so honest and sincere. It makes me feel better. I finally smile for the first time since my name was called at the Reaping. "I can do that."  
"Good, good, good. I'm glad someone will finally take my advice, hun. Now, what do you think of the other tributes? Would you consider any of them as allies?"

Do I want an ally? My first responses would be yes; I'm too scared to go through this alone. But I start to consider the question and suddenly, maybe I don't want allies after all. If I'm by myself, I have more available supplies and no fear of betrayal. It's better to try and detach from everyone else and not let them close. They're enemies, not friends.

"Do you think I can do this alone?"  
"From my experience, allies are a help and a hindrance. Some Victors were allied, some weren't. You don't seem like the kind to go out searching, are you? You'd rather keep to yourself."

That is true. The idea of having to ask for help is nerve-wracking. I don't know how to walk up to someone and ask in a situation like this. There would be too much doubt to properly trust them. What if they kill me in my sleep? What if they're physically stronger and decide I'm just slowing them down?

The door opens and Whyllis and Cheyenne file back in. I glance over and see that a the table has been set with plates and cutlery. It's time for dinner.

God, it smells amazing.

They serve us tender roast beef with mashed potatoes and the most buttery rolls I've ever seen. It's taking all of my willpower to just not grab the entire bowl. But I pace myself and take small bites, because I don't want to seem rude. Whyllis sits to my right, and he gives me this disdainful look. I just turn away, blushing into my mashed potatoes.

"What did you discuss?" Rhiannon asks Cheyenne is a light tone, perhaps trying to keep the atmosphere friendly. "Form any plans?"  
"We have, yes."  
"Excellent. If you don't mind, I'd like to work with Whyllis tomorrow. You'll be with Vera-Ryanna instead."

"Sure," Cheyenne grunts as Rhiannon quickly winks at me, to show that she's on my side. Whyllis rolls his eyes. "Hey you. Stop hogging all the rolls."

I shyly push the bowl over, but something about the harshness of his comment makes me want to speak up. "Um...I have a name..."  
"Yeah, sounds like you have two. What's up with that?"  
"Well...I'm named after both of my grandmothers...actually, both of their middle names. But my friends call me VR."

"How noble," Rhiannon says. "Do you prefer Vera? Or Ryanna?"  
"I don't really care. I don't mind being called VR. It's usually easier for most people. But my dad calls me Ria."

"Oh, so you're a daddy's girl?" Whyllis gushes in a singsong voice. "That's adorable."  
"Wha...what? It's just a nickname!"

"Be nice, you two," Cheyenne sighs. "I'd like it if my tributes didn't try and kill each other first thing."

I keep my hand down because I really don't want my first interaction with Whyllis to be a fight, but all he's done is just make fun of me. I mentally curse myself and my red hot cheeks. Has he always been this crass? Why do I have such a crush on him? Is it just because of the way he looks?

This is not the start I was looking for.


	9. Sharp Dressed Man

**Trigger warning: some slight misogynistic comments and body-shaming towards the end of the chapter.**

* * *

_Clean shirt, new shoes_

_And I don't know where I am goin' to_

_Silk suit, black tie_

_I don't need a reason why_

_They come runnin' just as fast as they can,_

_'Cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man_

* * *

After dinner, I immediately retreat to my room.

Cheyenne does the same, bringing a bottle of alcohol with her. Rhiannon stays back, curled up on the couch with a cup of tea. I don't bother seeing where Whyllis goes. I don't want to face him right now. My face grows hot at the very thought of him.

Too tired to take a shower, I quickly strip off my clothes, then rummage through the drawers until I find a blue T-shirt and some checkered pants. I slip them on. In the bathroom, I take a small cloth, wet it, then wipe at my face until I'm red. I take a look at my reflection in the mirror and feel a slight sense of shame.

There's a sense of dread in my stomach and I can't explain why. Maybe it's because that after all the action today, I finally have chance to think. It's definitely sunk in now, as much as I want to hide. But I know I'll have to face it eventually. As much as I appreciate Rhiannon's support, I don't think it's going to be enough. But how do I win over everyone else.

After a long night and trashing and turning, I don't get much sleep. Nobody comments on it the next morning. They do seem a bit surprised I'm the first one up. Tired as I am, there's no way I can sleep in. There's just too much on my mind.

I butter a bagel and pour a cup of orange juice. A bowl of fresh fruit is passed around and I amuse myself by plucking out all the red grapes. Whyllis huffs when they finally get to it; oh yeah, the first thing they said to me this morning was threaten to bash my kneecaps in if I ever called them anything else other than they/them today. They seem tired as well, so it's a tiny bit reassuring to know we're in the same boat.

"I hope you two have enough energy to make it through the Parade," Cheyenne says. "It's your first chance to appeal to the sponsors."  
"The sponsors can kiss my ass," Whyllis retorts and I bit my lip to keep from exploding into laughter.

Rhiannon gasps and Cheyenne frowns. Whyllis pretends to look shocked. "What? You think I actually want to be here? This sucks, this fucking sucks! Everyone sucks, the Capitol sucks, and our fucking President can suck my penis-"

"Oh, look! We're here!" Rhiannon says loudly, gesturing to the window. "We've just arrived in the Capitol!"

I turn around and glance out the window and all I can think is _wow_. There are so many brightly painted buildings, many of them shaped like sleek, silver boxes. The streets are clean and there's a lot of bright lights, despite it being so early in the morning.

Then, there's people crowding around the train and they begin to yell. Cameras go off as they bang against the windows and the muffled screaming gets louder. The train screeches to a stop. I nearly drop my bagel into my lap. Everyone else seems shaken up as well.

Some of the attendants approach us and they tap Cheyenne on the shoulder. "Pardon me, Miss Coulis, but I think you need to leave now, before things get worse."  
"Perfect timing." Cheyenne wipes her mouth with her napkin, before standing up and grabbing both me and Whyllis by our arms. I quickly down the last of my juice as we are led off the train. Thankfully, someone has put up a barrier to keep us from getting mobbed and Peacekeepers stand alert, just in case.

But they're pressing in from all side, making the walkway even smaller. Someone jumps out and grabs at Whyllis; they respond by shoving her back. They bump Cheyenne in the process and I trip over her foot. A man in a black trench coat shoves a camera in my face and the flash blinds me. I nearly scream before I'm being rushed to my feet again.

"Sods," Rhiannon hisses and she hurries me into the building. I'm led to a room with a bunch of strange equipment and blue curtains. On a table, a blue dress sits folded up.  
"Holler if you need me, hun," Rhiannon says before pulling back the curtains and leaving me alone in the room. Maybe a minute or so passes before the curtains are pulled back again, revealing three women with bright hair and clothing.

One of them, with curly pink hair and gold skin, grabs at my clothes. "Come on, we need to get you undressed! Chop-chop!"  
I nervously pull off my clothes, before I shoved into a tub of lukewarm water. They scrub me down into my skin is sore. The second woman, a short but thin woman with a green buzz cut and purple eyes, wraps me up in the blue dress while the other press strips against my arms.

"Ow!" I screech. The strips are yanked off, pulling off my hair with it. Once they finish my arms, they move on to my legs. I don't notice them leave, writhing around in the table in pain.

"Ow...ow...fffffuccckkkk...my legs..."  
"Are you done making a scene?"

I quickly sit up. It seems that my stylist has finally arrived. His skin is very pale, almost white, and he has wavy red hair swept off to the side. He wears a red dress shirt with a black tie and his blue jeans look so tight, I wonder if he can even feels his legs. His eyes are a dark grey, and he folds his arms in annoyance. "Well?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to hurt so much."  
"It wouldn't have if you actually kept you appearance in check at home. Honestly, with that much body hair, what kind of woman are you?"  
"Um..."

"I didn't ask hypo to answer. Anyways, I'm Diamond Dallas. I've been doing this for ten years and you're lucky you're with me. The other stylists just don't understand the female figure like I do. Let's go eat lunch. We have a lot of work to do."

Lunch is grilled chicken, fresh salad, and a chocolate cake. The chicken is rather nice, but I'm staring at the cake the whole time because it just looks so decadent and mouth-watering. There's a young man serving us, clad in red. He must've caught my gaze, because he cuts off a slice and hands the plate for me, only for Diamond to grab it back.

"No cake for you! Do you realize how fattening this is? Women shouldn't be that fat; it's absolutely disgusting. Finish your chicken."  
He gobbles down the slice pretty quickly and I'm left realizing that if I'm going into the Games into a few days, that a little extra fat would actually help, especially if the arena doesn't have a lot to eat. Also, who does this guy think he is, telling me to watch my weight?

I don't mind the rest of the meal, especially since we'd never have anything like this in 10. I wonder how my family's doing. I hope they're fine and not losing sleep over me. Well, I suppose I want people to worry, but I feel guilty knowing they're driving themselves crazy doing so. Does Angie miss me? Does she pray for my return?

"Lunch is over!" Diamond snaps, dragging me back to his station. before I leave, the man in red quickly hands me a chocolate leaf from the cake. I wolf it down before Diamond notices. He's too busy bragging about the importance of me watching my figure, or else I'd never fit into his gorgeous designs.

So far, this man has rubbed me all the wrong ways. I wonder if his costume will redeem him in my eyes.

"What do you think?" Diamond asks, gesturing to the stand that has been set up right in front of us. I glance the costume over, and I'm at a loss for words. Seriously, I can't describe it at all.


	10. Fashionista

**Trigger warning: some slightly misogynistic comments at the beginning of the chapter.**

* * *

_Fashion is the art_

_Designers are the gods_

_Models play the part of angels in the dark_

_Which one of you would ever dare to go against_

_That beauty is a trade_

_And everyone is paid_

_Fashionista, how do you look?_

* * *

"A dress," I say.  
"A dress!? No, it's not a dress! It's a toga!"

"What's a toga?"

Diamond scowls. "It's...never mind, I wouldn't expect a district girl like you to understand. Hurry up and get changed!"

The dress...er, _toga_...is a bright white, probably cleaner than the clothes I own at home. It's covered in black splotches. I unravel it, only to find out it's just a really long sheet. As I struggle to put it on and end up tangling myself in the cloth, it suddenly hits me. It looks like a cow's hide. Clever...

"Are you done yet!? God, you women take forever to get ready!"  
I throw back the curtain. Diamond's scowl grows even deeper as he nearly strips the fabric off me, before wrapping it around me again. It looks a lot better, but I don't want to admit it because this man has been nothing but cruel to me in the few hours I've known him.

The prep team gushes when they see my outfit. Then, they're flying around in a whirlwind of makeup and jewellery and it's hard to keep track of who is doing what. Finally, one of them wheels in a larger mirror for me to see my reflection.

I don't recognize myself at all.

The girl in front of me has her light brown perfectly brushed and curled, with a golden headband containing bronze horns on her head. Her toga is neatly wrapped around her body, pinned with a bronze bull's head brooch. She wears leather sandals intricately laced up to her knees. Leather bangles scratch against the skin on her wrist.

Overall, she's just beautiful.

"Is...is that...me?"  
"Of course!" The third member laughs, clapping her hands together. She has thick black hair and bright red eyes. "Now come, we've got to get you on your chariot."

Whyllis is wearing the exact same thing as me, except their toga appears to be slightly shorter. They've also got bull horns and those complicatedly laced sandals. They just fold their arms and pout. "Why are you dressed like cows, but wearing bull horns?"

"Don't ask me," I say climbing into the chariot. Whyllis gets in after me. Other tributes file around us, before the eventually board their chariots as well. Somewhere, triumphant music begins to play. The Parade's about to start. Suddenly, the chariot lurches and I nearly tumble backwards. I grab the edges and hang onto for dear life.

Above us, television screens are displaying the parade to the audience. District 1 is up first, with Opal and Bartleby both clad in gold. Opal wears a flowing dress with a gemstone-studded cape behind her while Bartleby has on a ruffly shirt with puffy sleeves and slim dress pants. He also wears a beret and carries a golden quill. They both wave politely to the crowd.

Cindra raises her fake dagger above her head and screams while the crowd cheers. She has on silver armour and a tiara, but it just looks so revealing and uncomfortable. Troy's armour covers him more and he's carrying a helmet under his arm. He shrinks away nervously from the crowd. Cindra just scoffs and continues to egg everyone on.

District 3 comes out next and neither tribute seems happy to be there. Gayle folds his arms while Delta nervously clasps her hands together. They were simply T-shirt and pants, with little blinking lights on them. From blue, to green, to white. The clapping subsides a little and it seems everyone agrees the costumes are very lackluster.

The chariot carries onward and I nearly burst into laughter; even Whyllis giggles a little. Both tributes are wearing giant palm tree with fake coconuts and little holes they can stick their heads out of. The best part of it all is that paint job is horrible; the trunks look yellow rather than brown. Quincy and Anthony are not amused; both of them are red in the face.

The chariot lurches again and I bump up against Whyllis. District 5 appears on the screen, and it's honestly nothing compared to 4. Flynn and Karen in dressed in glowing bodysuits, holding up a bunch of large black rings with green orbs on them. Flynn bursts into laughter, spinning the orbs around while Karen just scoffs and plasters a fake smile on her face.

Up comes District 6. Abril and Ethan are dressed like flamboyant hovercraft pilots, except...well, I can see Abril's boobs. She makes no effort to cover them, with her arms drooped by her side and her head down. Ethan takes off his cap and waves it at the crowd. They clap and cheer for him, which prompts him to wave his cap even harder.

District 7's costumes are simple in comparison. Sitka wears a dark green dress with a bunch of evergreen trees painted at the bottom. Her headband also seems to have the trees painted on it too. Tyrone has on a blazer with orange leaves and matching pants. They both wave, but neither of them seem that interested. Sitka smiles a few times but that's it.

District 8 is very, very colourful. Damask has on a gold suit and Ellie a strapless golden dress. But shimmering capes fly out behind them, painted with all the colours of the rainbow. It looks mesmerizing, the way the colours all seep into each other. Damask proudly puffs up his chest while Ellie shyly waves. They get a good amount of applause.

In comparison, District 9 seems a little bland. Teff and Magaz have on white shirts and pants, with a simple wheat design printed on. It's almost like their stylists didn't try, which has to suck. They both make the best out of it, with Magaz blowing kisses while Teff covers up her face, but we can all see her smile.

Now everyone's looking at me.

My first instinct is to hide and cover up my face, but I try managing a few waves as the crowd cheers for us. Whyllis doesn't even bother. They just place their hands on their hips and scowl. I jostle them a little, only for them to elbow me in the head. Everyone laughs as I pull the horns away from my face and go back to trying to appeal future sponsors.

As the chariot pulls on, we hear laughter from behind us. The tributes from 11 are dressed as doughnuts. They have on suspenders to hold up the giant rings. Faint white powder tumbles off them as they stumble and bump into each other. Jane just scowls and glares at everyone while basil nervously laughs, rocking back in forth slightly. I hope he doesn't fall out.

Last up is District 12. Maryann twirls a bit, showing off her sparkly red dress and the ruffles at the bottom. Leo has on an orange suit that also glitters under the bright spotlight lighting everything up, though he can't even be bothered to smile. The first thing I'm thinking is sparkly gemstones, are the embers of fire that burning coal creates. Maybe their stylist like sparkles.

The chariots line up in front of the President's balcony in three rows of four. A quick speech is said to welcome us and just like that, the parade is over. The chariots pull on, before they come to a halt and we can finally jump off. I do and nearly trip over my toga. Thankfully, Rhiannon is there to catch me. She leads me towards the elevator while Cheyenne helps Whyllis take their costume apart.

We're the first ones inside, only to be joined by Jane from 11 and her mentor, Jacob Fuji, who won the 16th Games. Jane just smirks at me. "Nice costume. Looked way better than mine for sure."  
"Well, yours wasn't that bad. It was kinda funny-"

"Cut the crap, 10," Jane seethes. Jacob frowns and smacks her on the shoulder. Rhiannon shuffles around me a bit, almost as if she's putting herself between me and Jane in case a fight breaks out. But we make it to our floor without incident. Rhiannon shows me my bedroom and says she'll see me in the morning.

I take a quick shower, change into some new clothes, then flop back onto the bed. It doesn't take long before I'm fast asleep.

* * *

**That was the Tribute Parade! Which costumes were your favourite? Which ones made you laugh out loud? :3**

**During the next few chapters, and especially once we hit the arena, they will be a little longer for more tribute interactions. Every tribute will get a chance to shine. Good thing VR's good with names, because the plot kind of demands it. XD**

**See you next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	11. Welcome To The Jungle

**More story talk going on over at my Discord! PM me for a link!**

* * *

_Welcome to the jungle_

_We got fun and games_

_We got everything you want_

_Honey, we know the names_

* * *

The next morning, Rhiannon takes me and Whyllis down to the Training Centre. We're not the first ones there, but we're not last either, which I guess is good. But the place is huge. There's so many different weapons, so much to see and do.

I follow Whyllis because I really don't know where else to go. They don't like that at all. "Stop following me."  
"I'm not!"

Whyllis growls and gives me a little shove, putting some space between us. I still hang close by, though. I don't really know which tributes I can trust...well...I suppose I can't and shouldn't trust any of them. But Rhiannon says that if I want allies, I need to figure out who I'm allying with. I glance around and already, groups have begun to form.

Leo and Maryann from 12 are trying out different stations together. Abril and Ethan are also doing their own thing together. Bartleby, Opal, Troy, Cindra, Quincy, and Anthony stand in a circle, conversing loudly. I'm reminded of the previous Games and Royal's alliance, which also consisted of those exact districts. Well, if it ain't broke...

I wander around for a bit. The archery station catches my eye right away, but there's something stopping me from going near it. It's the only thing in here I'm really familiar with, but what if I'm not as good as I thought I was? What if there's someone else there, way better than me in every single way? I don't want to look like a weakling because I can't fire a stupid arrow.

I wander over to the edible plants station, because I guess it's gonna be important. There's a lot to look at, and it's overwhelming. I haven't seen most of these plants before. the table consists of these thick blue tiles, with each individual species labelled clearly and more information written on the back. Blue for safe, red for poisonous. I start to group them, then separate those groups into smaller categories based off appearance. If I can just remember specific characteristics, then I'll have a good idea as to what I can and can't eat.

I feel someone brush up against me. It's Opal. I quickly look away before anything happens. Last thing I need is a big fat target painted on my back before the Games actually begin.

I mess up all the tiles, then re-organize them, forcing my brain to pick out those key characteristics. Leaves, spikes, stems, the colour of berries. When I think I've got it memorized, I neatly stack the tiles, then leave. Magaz, the boy from 9, takes my place and starts playing with the tiles. I noticed him watching me and trying to copy my strategy.

Nobody's busy firing arrows pull the strings of bows. I stand there for a moment, debating my options. I really need the practice, because I'll be useless with everything else; no way I can master the sword in only three days. But, as the only tribute who uses this weapon, will I draw too much attention? What if one of the Careers happens to be better at this than me?

I'll never be good at it. I'll never handle not being good at it.

_Just try,_ a little voice says to me. _What do you have to lose?_

The trainer seems relieved to finally see me, and she spends way too long explaining safety procedures and proper handling of the equipment. I don't want to let her know I do have past experience, in case it's frowned upon, and she's so enthusiastic about it. Finally, I take my first shot.

I miss. No surprise there. The trainer just claps her hands together. "Don't worry, try again! Take all the time you need."

_I'll never have enough time,_ I think as I reload the bow. This time, I hit the target, a sturdy human cutout, but only on the arm. It's..a start, I suppose...  
"Good job!" the trainer says. "It maybe not be a fatal wound, but with something like that, you can easily slow down your opponent, or potentially cause them to bleed out."

I reload the bow and the trainer starts chattering again, but not to me. Rather, to Jane, the feisty little girl from the elevator last night. She fumbles with the bow a bit, and her first shot skitters across the floor, not even making it to the target.

My next arrow flies through the air and hits the target right above the pelvis. I giggle to myself. But I felt a slight sense of adrenaline because I'm hitting the target for once. I don't want to leave. I want to stay and shoot for as long as I can, until I can take everyone out with a single arrow.

Jane's still struggling to even send her arrows in a straight line. I just lean over. "When you pull the string back, don't use all fingers. It makes it a lot easier and you don't end up hurting yourself."

Jane glances up at me with big brown eyes, but her face slowly melts into a sneer when she recognizes me. "I think I know what I'm doing, thank you very much."  
"It was just a suggestion-"  
"Why would I trust you anyways? How do I know this isn't some trick?"

"Just trying to help," I mutter under my breath, because for crying out loud, what's her problem?

Jane scoffs loudly. "Oh, I see. You think I'm weaker than you. That I'm some poor, defenseless, pathetic little girl from 11 that needs to be babysat and sheltered from all harm of the scary, harsh reality of the outside world. Is that what you think?"

The temptation to bite back is just so strong. I know I shouldn't take the bait, but I do anyways. "You said it, not me."

"It would be a damn shame if I accidentally shot you in a training accident, 10."

I hand the bow back to the trainer, before I do anything stupid. And I don't want to hang around any longer, in case I start crying. It's not that Jane's insults sting that much. She knows nothing about and we've only spoke twice. But she, and everyone else are capable of killing me with no second thought. And they're willing to do it too.

Maybe I should go try a different station.

After lunch, I got spend some time working with snares. I'm joined by Ellie, the quiet girl from 8. We both keep to ourselves, working on our own respective traps, when she suddenly tosses a stick at my feet. "Hey."

"Um...hey..."  
"I'm Ellie."  
"I'm Vera-Ryanna."

"That's a nice name," Ellie says and I feel warmth spread through my face. "It's pretty."  
"Thanks."

I have a feeling, I know what she'll ask next, but I'm not entirely sure how to respond. She says it anyways, before I settle on an answer. "Are you looking for any allies?"  
"I'm not sure yet. Are you?"

"I'll say yes if anyone asks," Ellie responds in a soft voice.  
"I don't know...I guess having allies would be nice...but...I'm just trying to keep my options open as well."

I just shrug and offer her a smile. God, that sounded so stupid!

To her credit, Ellie just nods. "That's fair. It was nice meeting with you, Vera-Ryanna. I'll see you around."  
"See you..." I whisper as she finishes her snare and walks off.

After I finish my lopsided snare, I run a few laps around the track because I really need the exercise. I'm soon joined by Karen, the girl from District 5 who volunteered for some reason. Rather than start with a simple jog, she breaks instantly into a run and soon, she's surpassing me, cackling to herself.

I'm not even going to ask. No need to wear myself out by trying to best her.

By now, the Training Centre's closed. I'm joined in the elevator by several tributes and escorts, including Whyllis, who's busy chatting it up with the boy from 7, Tyrone. Of course they've got an ally already. Of course they've got no problems making conversation.

Meanwhile I'm still struggling to make up my mind.

* * *

**The first of three training days is finally over! Do you have any ideas as to who you think VR should ally with?**

**Not much to say, except that this is gonna be the last RaS update of 2019, so the story will see you all in 2020!**

**-Vr**


	12. Sympathy For The Devil

_Please allow me to introduce myself_

_I'm a man of wealth and taste_

_I've been around for a long, long year_

_Stole many a man's soul to waste_

* * *

Training is pretty straightforward for the beginning of the second day is very straightforward. I begin with throwing knives next to Magaz from 9 and Damask from 8, who are very polite company, but I can't help feeling a little intimidated by them, considering how much older they are. They've got their thing going and I suppose I don't want to third wheel that much.

At lunch, I sit by myself, watching everything unfold. A lot of tributes have started grouping already and it makes me a little nervous. Magaz and Damask. Gayle and Flynn. If I want to join the mad dash for allies, should I start now? Am I being stupid, tricking myself into thinking someone will actually want to approach me? What if nobody does?

Suddenly, there's a stand-off. Opal's off to one side of a bench, facing her other five allies. Bartleby is trying to reason with her as Cindra scowls behind them. The pair from 4 have their arms wrapped around each other and look on, but don't seem too bothered by the whole event. Troy stands the furthest away, hands together as he shakes a little. Everyone else has stopped to watch.

"Opal!" Bartleby says. "Come on. This is stupid."  
"I don't need you guys. I'm better off on my own."  
"You'll regret this!" Cindra hisses, but she doesn't do anything to stop Opal from walking away. The room is filled with silence. I just turn back to my food, with a sudden feeling in my gut.

Once lunch is over, we all start filing out, planning to go back to training. The Careers are still huddled together and whispering, as if Opal hadn't just walked off fifteen minutes earlier. Someone suddenly grabs my shoulder. "Hey!"

Behind me are the pair from 6, along with Teff. I shrug Ethan's hand off my shoulder. "Can I help you guys?"  
"Well, I'm Ethan and this is my district partner, Abril. That's Teff. Anyways, we're a squad and we wanna know if you'd like to join us? If you do, that's totally fucking lit. If not...uh...shit..." Ethan glances over at Abril. "What am I supposed to say again?"

There's absolutely no reason to panic over this, but I start doing it anyways. Internally. Shit, shit, shit! I should take this opportunity, right? I might not get the chance later! But is such a large group a good idea? If I say no, what if they all choose to target me? And Ellie! If she knows I said yes, is it gonna piss her off? Will she swear her revenge? Am I even supposed to care?

"Um..." is all I stammer out as Abril's eyes droop slightly. "Well, I was expecting that. You don't want us, do you?"  
Ethan scoffs. "Ah, whatever. If you change your mind, just yeet on over to us, and yeah! See ya later!"

"Bye," I mutter quietly.

I'm not sure what to do next, so I try out a variety of survival stations. Tying knots is surprisingly easy and I get the hang of it really fast. Camouflage is much harder. I've never had the patience for painting and nothing I'm doing looks that realistic to me. No way in hell I can blend in with anything. I wash it all off and walk away.

I could go back to archery, which Jane is failing spectacularly at, but I do want to try something else, just in case I can't get my hands on a bow. Knives are good, but everybody wants to use knives. Maybe spears? I can try spears.

Sure enough, the station is a bit crowded. Delta seems to have no problem sending her spear flying in the direction she wants it to go, but little Maryann is struggling. She wipes the sweat from my forehead and hands me the spear as she hurries off. "Here. Take it."

As it turns out, spear throwing is easier said than done. I can't hit anything. Every. Goddamn. Time. It's beyond frustrating and I drop my head in my hands with a sigh, the trainer just looking on, but clearly can't be bothered to help me. He's just been repeating the same tips over and over and over.

"Sucks," Delta says in a monotone voice as I put the spear back on its rack. "Not for everyone, I guess."  
"That doesn't help," I mutter under my breath.

I end up shooting a few arrows to calm myself down. The trainer notes this and points it out to me. Even if I seem to suck at everything else, I have one advantage and that's I can turn my anger into rapid-fire archery. I seem to be doing a lot better when I don't even try to aim.

"Who spit in your oatmeal?" Jane cackles, causing me to miss and sending my arrow flying sideways. "You look pissed!"  
"Why are you always pestering me?"  
Jane shrugs. "Eh. You're fun. I'd be doing it to Basil, all the time, but the kid does not stop! He keeps saying he'll tell our mentor, our escort, the Peacekeepers. I can't believe he can't take a joke."

"Go play with someone else," I say through gritted teeth. The temptation to throw the bow at her is just so strong right now. "Or better yet, Cindra. I bet she'll find you totally adorable."  
"Are you trying to get me killed?"

I just shrug as Jane grabs my arm and pulls me towards her face. "Hey, you see that girl over there? I think her name is Sadie...Sarah? Sandra?"  
"You mean Sitka, right?"  
"Whatever. Anyways, she and all the other little kids are in an alliance. Except for me, of course. She's pretty bossy too, Basil told me. So yeah, she should be fun."

Jane skips off and I make no attempt to stop her. If she wants to make enemies, fine by me. I'm not her babysitter.

I load my bow, aim, and fire. The arrow lands in the cutout's head. The head. Holy shit, a headshot.

The trainer begins to clap. "I knew you could do it! Great job, kiddo! Let's do it again."  
I flex my fingers, which are beginning to ache. "I'm not sure I could recreate that."  
"Oh...well, try your best anyways!"

Maybe I do have a fighting chance after all.

* * *

**More alliances are starting to come together! I will post an official list of all alliances after the last training day, since many of them were formed off-screen.**

**Do you think VR is making the right call in choosing not ally with anyone? Did any of the alliances mentioned surprise you?**

**See you all in the next training chapter!**

**-Vr**


	13. I Started A Joke

_I started a joke which started the whole world crying_

_But I didn't see that the joke was on me, oh no_

_I started to cry which started the whole world laughing_

_Oh If I'd only seen that the joke was on me_

* * *

"How's training coming along?" Rhiannon asks as I sit down for breakfast. "You have your private session this afternoon."  
"What do you think I should do?"  
"Whatever you feel most confident with, hun. Of course, don't do anything to make the Gamemakers mad at you, or they might place a target on your back."

I crumble up a pastry in my hands, spilling crumbs everywhere. "Oh God. That makes me nervous."  
"Why are you nervous?" Rhiannon my shoulder. "I'm sure you'll do fine!"

Now's my chance to cram in as much last-minute training as I possibly can. I spend most of my time sorting plants, until I feel confident enough I can tell most of them apart. That's not entirely true; I'm still a bit lost. But at least I know which berries are really good for me and which ones will kill me.

But the slow and repetitive act of sorting gives me time to think. What skills do I have to show to the Gamemakers? Is my best bet to shoot as many arrows as I can in hopes at least one shot is impressive? Do I group off edible plants instead? Should I do both?

The atmosphere is much more tense than it has been in the past two days, because the other tributes feel the same; what do the Gamemakers want from us? I haven't seen much from Whyllis in the past two days, because they've made it clear they want me to stay out of their way. Currently, they're throwing axes with Tyrone.

Suddenly, there's the sound of several paint pots crashing to the ground. I glance behind me at the camouflage station, where Cindra is covered in green and black paint. The trainer winces, producing a small towel to help clean her off. I notice a very familiar girl hanging out nearby, a mischievous gin on her face. She raises a finger to her lips at Sitka, who stomps her foot angrily.

At lunchtime, Jane decides to sit across from me. I want to slap that silly little smirk right off her face. "What the hell were you thinking!?"  
"You told me to go piss off Cindra."  
"I did not!"

Jane crumples up her napkin into a little ball. "What's done is done. Nobody can prove I did it. And you're not going to tell."  
She's right, I won't tell anyone. This might backfire on me once we're in the arena and I really can't take that risk. I can't take more of Jane either.

"TRIBUTES! PRIVATE SESSIONS WILL BEGIN IN HALF AN HOUR! PLEASE LINE UP ON THE BENCH PROVIDED IN DISTRICT ORDER, WITH MISS LUMEN AT THE DOOR AND MR. PAMTORTH AT THE END!"

I find myself sitting between Magaz and Whyllis; both are perfectly fine ignoring me. Ugh, why do I have to be so close to the end? That just gives me more time to be nervous!

Rhiannon told me last night each sessions only lasts fifteen minutes. So, by the time it's my turn, I've been sitting there for hours. "Vera-Ryanna Kingsley," an automated voice says. I stand up, my legs suddenly throbbing after sitting for so long.

The Gamemakers are staring at me, and only me. This is my chance to shine and show them what I can do. Those hours of sitting have given me a lot of time to overthink my strategy, so I pick up a bow and load a quiver with about ten arrows. I take one, spend a good amount of time aiming, then fire. I hit the target.

Then I hit it again.

I miss, then hit. Miss, miss, miss, hit. By the time I've gone through all ten arrows, I've managed to hit the target with half of them on the outer rings. Ugh. Now would be a great time for a lucky shot. I reload the quiver and I've still got a little less then half my time left. I could leave, but if I can pull off a more impressive score, then I'm going to do it.

But it's just so, so, so frustrating, because these arrows need to count, yet I find myself slipping up and making all these silly mistakes. Finally, I'm dismissed to leave. And out of seventeen arrows, only nine hit the target. No bullseyes, no crazy luck. Nothing.

I take the elevator back up to my floor, alone. I step inside the shower, just staring at the pristine white tiles on the wall. Once I'm dried off and changed, there's a knock on the door. It's Rhiannon. "Hey hun. They're going to be revealing the scores soon, if you'd like to come see them with us."

Cheyenne and Whyllis are already crowded around the television screen. I take a seat off to the side and watch as faces start to flash up on the screen with numbers beside them.

"Starting off with Opal Lumen of District 1, with a score of...Six!"

"And Bartleby Richmond also with a score of...Six!"

"From District 2, Cindra Heath with a score of...Nine!"

"Her district partner Troy Jong, with a score of...Five!"

"Next is Delta Marris, with a score of...Five!"

"Up behind her is Gayle Apollox with a score of...Five!"

"Quincy Burnett of District 4, with a score of...Eight!"

"And their star-crossed lover Anthony Morrison also scores...Eight!"

"Hailing from District 5, Karen Angenellis has received a...Six!"

"And her district partner Flynn McIntyre with a score of...Five!"

"Abril Schumacher scores, very fittingly...Six!"

"Next up, Ethan Keddy with a score of...Five!"

"Sitka Rowan from District 7 scores a...Four!"

"And her hulking district partner Tyrone Quinifus, with a...Seven!"

"Now we have Ellie Corzin with a score of...Five!"

"And Damask Weave of District 8 walks away with a...Four!"

"Up next is Teff Bran, of District 9, who has scored a...Four!"

"And Magaz Hector, with a score of...Five!"

"From District 10, Vera-Ryanna Kingsley has scored a...Five!"

"And Whyllis Shears has walked away with a...Seven!"

"Jane Dough from District 11 scores a...Two!"

"Her district partner Basil Garland has scored a...Three!"

"From District 12, Maryann Corinne Loorker has scored a...Five!"

"And finally, we have Leo Pamtorth with a...Four!"

The music begins to fade. The scores are over. All I can think about is five. A five. That's average. I don't know how I feel about being nothing but average. Hell, Whyllis walked away with a seven! How could I ever compete with something like that!?

My eyes blur up. I quickly excuse myself and hurry out of the room. I don't want to cry about this. Not when I was feeling so certain that I could do something to increase my odds. The joke's on me; my mediocre shooting skills won't be enough. I don't know what else I can do to at least fool myself into thinking I might be able to survive what comes next.

What do I do now!?

* * *

_Current Alliances: _

_Careers:_ Bartleby (1), Troy (2), Cindra (2), Anthony (4), Quincy (4), Karen (5)

_The Mad Scientists:_ Gayle (3), Flynn (5)

_Brute and Bitter:_ Tyrone (7), Whyllis (10)

_The Little Kids Squad:_ Sitka (7), Basil (11), Leo (12), Maryann (12)

_Gentle Giants:_ Damask (8), Magaz (9)

_Single Ladies:_ Delta (3), Ellie (8)

_669:_ Ethan (6), Abril (6), Teff (9)

_Nothing But Chaos:_ Jane (11)

_Loners:_ Opal (1), VR (10)

* * *

**Training is over and the scores have been announced! Did any of them surprise you?**

**I've added the list of alliances, which will also be included once we hit the arena, since so many of them formed offscreen. Are any of them surprising to you?**

**Next chapter will be the interview prep! So stay tuned for that!**

**-Vr**


	14. I'm Just A Girl

**Trigger warning: some more misogynistic comments and body-shaming in this chapter because as we know, Diamond's a dick.**

* * *

_Oh I'm just a girl_

_Living in captivity_

_Your rule of thumb_

_Make me worry some_

_Oh I'm just a girl_

_What's my destiny?_

* * *

"Do I have to be in front of some many people?" I ask Rhiannon. It's lunchtime and I've got several hours before my interview tonight. I won't lie; it makes me nervous. I hate standing in front of crowds, even if it will only be for a few minutes. What the hell do I say up there!?

Rhiannon takes a small bite of her egg salad sandwich. "I know it sounds overwhelming, hun. But don't worry! You'll be great. And if you don't know where to be look, I'll be with Cheyenne in the very front. You can stare at me the whole time if you'd like. Will that help?"  
"A little."

"Now, finish your lunch. The stylists will be up here in an hour to start getting you ready, if you want to eat something quick first."  
"I don't think I can eat anything else right now," I admit. my stomach is a mixture of nerves and nausea. Plus, lunch was very filling. "Is it going to be just my prep team?"  
"Your stylist and your prep team. They're all responsible for making you look your best tonight."

Great. I really don't want to put up with Diamond before my interview. He rarely shows up here, which works for me, but he I do see him sitting on the couch, I do my best to hide out in my room until I know he's gone. What does he have to say about me this time?

Cheyenne waits with me after lunch. She then quizzes me on what stations I visited during training, why I have no allies, and what my strategy will be come the Games. She doesn't seem impressed with most of the info I give her; I want to gently remind her that I am not Whyllis Shears, but pissing off my mentor is probably a terrible idea.

There's a knock on the door. "Helloooooo! Prep team!"  
Cheyenne welcomes them inside. "I'll leave you to it," she says curtly before walking off. My prep team leads me into the elevator. One of them, the woman with curly black locks, plays with my boring brown hair. "I love your highlights; they're so red! Are they natural?"

"I think so?"  
"Fabulous! We absolutely must do something with them! Do you hear me girls?"  
The others nod. I feel a sudden warmth in my cheeks.

The beauty process is much easier than last time, because they've already waxed off all my body hair. Instead, they shower me with sweet-smelling washes, and wrap me up in a robe, before fetching two bags that probably have clothes inside them. The woman with the green buzz cut and purple eyes introduces herself as Kanaya and hols out the bags to me. "Diamond had a specific theme in mind, but we also made a second outfit, just in case. Would you like to see them?"

Kanaya opens up Diamond's choice first to reveal a sparkly gold dress. There's no straps or anything, which makes me wonder how it will stay on. I suppose it looks nice, but it's short. Very short. I self-consciously tug at the end of my robe. How much of me is this supposed to cover?  
"Does it have to be so short?" I mumble.  
"You don't like it?"

I just shrug as Kanaya unzips the second bag. "Well, maybe you'll like this one better."

The second dress is almost floor-length and a bight green. It comes with a slightly darker sash wrapped around the waist and a matching headband sitting on the hanger. Thick sleeves have been used to keep it on the hanger, which might stretch to cover most of my shoulders. It's simple, very simple. But for some strange reason that I can't explain, it just resonates with me more. It's my kind of style.

"Do you like it?" my prep team asks me.  
"I love it! Green's my favourite colour!"  
Kanaya chuckles. "Mine too."

My prep team quickly helps me into the dress and zip it up behind my back. As the girl with black hair adjusts my headband, Kanaya does my makeup. She adds a light touch of concealer (which makes me sneeze), some pink lip gloss, and dark green eyes shadow. I have a nice pair of dark green flats on my feet, rather than Diamond's request of ridiculously tall heels. They pinch a little, but Kanaya tells me to just relax and suddenly, I don't feel them at all.

As I admire my reflection in the mirror, I feel someone grab at my arm. "What's all this!? Why is she wearing this!?"  
I try to pull back, but Diamond's grip is just too strong. "You insufferable girls! I said gold! GOLD! She's got no kind of body to be wearing something like this!"

"She didn't like the height of your dress, Diamond," Kanaya says in a surprisingly calm voice. "I told you, we shouldn't have taken as much of the bottom as we-"  
"What makes you think you know how to dress a lady better than me? I'm the stylist here! And you! We better get you of this rag now! God, just staring at you makes my eyes hurt. Women around here have so sense of judgement. Do I have to babysit you all the time?"

I shake my head, blinking back tears. I don't want to cry and ruin all the lovely makeup Kanaya has done for me. Or take off the dress. Or be anywhere near Diamond.

Suddenly, Whyllis is standing in the doorway. "What the hell, guys!? I can hear you from across the hall!"  
Diamond scoffs. "What the hell are you wearing, boy?"  
"Well, today's a feminine day and I don't feel like shoving my ass in a suit. You got a problem with that? Or do I need to beat it into your head?"

My prep talk just smirks while Diamond looks taken aback. "How dare you! Do you know who I am!? Now I have to fix both of your outfits! This is what happens when you hire stupid little girls for an art like fashion. Nothing ever gets done right."

Whyllis purses her lips together; I notice they're a shiny black. "Alright, I've seen enough here. Come on VR, let's go."

She takes my hand and pulls me out into the hall. I finally take in Whyllis's outfit. She has on a sleek black jumpsuit with thick heels underneath. Her arms are completely bare, most of the fabric stopping the top of her chest. Unlike mine, there's no accessories in sight. Her long blonde hair has been curled again, falling in waves down her back. I notice her eye shadow is also very dark and her cheeks are redder than usual, probably from the blush she has on.

"I like your clothes..."  
Whyllis doesn't respond, but rather than scowl at me like she's done for the past few days, she just gives me a look. Either of sympathy or pity.

"Don't take this the wrong way, okay? That doesn't make us friends."  
Of course. I rub at the new bruise forming on my arm. "Right...I'll stay out of your way."

"You better," Whyllis huffs. She stalks off, heels clacking loudly against the floor. I awkwardly follow after her, because there's nowhere else for me to go.

There's a small room with some food set out for us to eat. But I'm so nervous that I can barely take a glass with water, without fear of spilling it all over my dress. Right, I can do this. That's what Rhiannon said, right? And I feel so pretty in this dress; am I really letting it go to waste? No. It took confidence for my prep team to stand up to Diamond so I need to be confident going out there.

I take a look at my reflection in the floor-length mirror one last time. I am ready. I can do this.

I want to be the strong-willed girl my prep team has made me out to be.

* * *

**A bit of a filler chapter with not a lot going on, since the next one, which will feature all the interviews, will definitely be a long and detailed one. But I'm excited to describe all the pretty dresses and outfits! What do you think of VR's and Whyllis's outfits?**

**Hope you're all excited for the next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	15. You Wanted The Best

_Everything's gotten way out of hand_

_But your wish is our command_

_You wanted the best_

_You got the best_

* * *

District 10 is always close to the end, as usual. I have plenty of time to watch everyone else. I decide not to worry, no, I am not going to worry until it gets remotely close to my turn. If I worry now, I'll spend the whole time freaking out.

Whyllis is ignoring me again, which is fine. I shouldn't be bothering her anyways. On her other side is Jane, perky as ever. I'm staring at Magaz's back and lean out, trying to catch a glimpse of the other tributes. Yep. It's gonna be a while before I'm up there.

Opal is first, strolling across the stage with a fierce look on her face. She has on a short dark green dress and a lot of golden metal plates that remind me of armour. She answers all of her questions in a hurry, as if she can't be bothered to stay up there for too long. When asked about why she volunteered, she seems offended.

"Why I volunteered? _Why I volunteered!?_ Because I think I can win! Do you really think I'm stupid enough to just throw everything away!? No. I'm going to win, you all just watch! I will prove myself to my family, my district, and the entirety of Panem!"

Bartleby is next, in a light brown suit and a fancy round hat. He's even carrying a cane. He seems very calm and relaxed until I catch sight of his eyes darting back and forth and his voice wavering, as if he wants to cry. That being said, he deflects everything. He won't answer a single question.  
"I prefer not to answer," he whispers, tapping his foot and his cane against the floor. "I just...prefer not to answer..."

Cindra's dress is floor-length and a very deep red that reminds me, in a way, of blood. She has her chin up the whole time and she won't stop grinning. It's obvious the crowd loves her and her confidence...maybe a bit too much? I shudder, imagining her perfect teeth as sharp little daggers.

"This has been my calling! It's been my calling since the day I was born! Mark my words, I'm going in there, and I'm coming out a Victor!"

Troy moves as slow as he possibly can onto the stage. His outfit is a simple black tux. That's it; everything about it is just black. Troy doesn't make up for such a hideous outfit either. He's devoid of any emotions whatsoever. It's kind of sad.

When asked about his alliance, Troy just shrugs. "Whatever, I guess. It exists..."

Delta is up next, with a simple pale blue dress that stops right above her knees. Her face is covered with a heavy layer of makeup. She doesn't react to anything either and of her answers are pretty simple. There's not much to say except her interview is kind of boring.

"Yes, I have a strategy and an alliance. No, I don't feel like sharing it. Thanks."

Gayle stomps up to the stage scowling. He has on a bark blue tux with a bright white shirt underneath and a pink tie. The interviewer can barely get out any questions before he starts going off on a loud rant that makes me cover my ears about how much he hates this whole thing. And he seems to really hate it.

"You sick fucks probably twisted it to make me look like I actually enjoy this stupid game. I just didn't want my boyfriend to die! What the hell is wrong with you people!?"

On the other side of the stage, Delta just shakes her head at her district partner. I have to agree. Pissing off the audience is never a good idea.

Quincy's jumpsuit is a sparkly blue, which is blinding under all the spotlights. Their black boots are loud as they practically run and jump up onto the stage in front of the cheery audience. After the last few train wrecks, their interview is smooth, but they will not shut up about their boyfriend.

"Anyways, I'm so excited! Anthony and I are gonna be like that power couple, you know the ones you see in the movies? The other tributes better watch out, because we're coming for them!"

Anthony's suit is also very sparkly and blue, just like his district partner's outfit. He's a little more subdued and calmer. Of course, he's just got to mention how in love he is with Quincy and how romantic the whole thing is.

"We've been dating for over three years now, and we do everyone together. I read a story from a long time ago that really sums it up. Quincy is the Juliet to my Romeo."

There's nervous laughter all around from those in the know. Karen is up next, wearign a form fitting dress made of black lace. It has long sleeves and trails on the ground behind her. It doesn't seem to work as well as it should, because she's so confident in herself, and way too certain she's better than everyone else.

"You all should really stop counting me out, okay!? So what I'm young!? I've got a lot of skills and I'm way better than even some of the Careers! So go ahead, underestimate me. I'll make sure that you regret it until you're dead!"

Flynn is wearing a simple grey suit, but with a long white coat over the rest of his clothes. He even his glasses too, but I'm guessing they're fake since he never wore them in training. He spends the whole time rambling on about his passions for science and the like. He talks so fast, I can barely keep up.

"But yeah, science! Am I right? I wanted to bring one of homemade smoke bombs up here to show you guys how much fun it is, but I told I wasn't allowed. Damn. Well, I guess you'll have to wait until the arena when I show everyone just what science can do!"

April's dress is in two pieces, with a glittery top and a very tight skirt that I'm guessing is made out of leather. She fiddles with the giant diamond necklace she's wearing as she tells the audience about her experience helping to deliver babies, including her own niece.

"I love her so much. And the woman I volunteered for was her mother. I feel bad because my brother abandoned his child and I do want her to grow up without a mother either. At the very least, she's one more child I might be able to save."

Ethan's suit is black with red stripes running down the jacket. His bright red tie is a mess and his shirt is untucked. In comparison to his quiet district partner, Ethan spends the whole time laughing and telling jokes which gets the audience chuckling with him.

"Why the heck are we talking about the Games? I don't wanna talk about them! I still got some more jokes! Okay, you're gonna love this one. A man walks into a bar..."

Sitka skips onto the stage in the fluffiest dress I've ever seen., It's a dark green, and I'm a bit relieved not to be the only one wearing that colour. She's so cute and bubbly and responds with so much enthusiasm, it's a bit jarring. After all, last time I saw her, she was bossing her alliance around.

"My alliance may be big, but I know that under my strategic leadership, we'll do amazing! There's practically no way we'll lose!"

Tyrone is wearing a black suit with white stripes running down his arms. I notice the pair of beat-up sneakers on his feet. This interview has to be the most casual of the night, because Tyrone's answers are so simple and quick. Heck, he's way too busy staring at his shoes the whole time.

By now, over half the interviews are done. Suddenly, I start to feel a little nervous.

Ellie is wearing a sleek silver top, flats shoes, and a detached white skirt that has a lot of ruffles. She seems a little nervous at first (I can relate), but I see a smile slowly spread across her face and her back starts to arch as she visibly relaxes.

"Well, my ally and I really trust each other. We've got a lot in common and we both think of the same wavelength. It's nice to have someone you can be so close to. I think we'll have each other's backs once we hit the arena and together, we can do great things."

Damask is wearing a black trenchcoat over a white dress shirt and grey pants. He also seems very stiff as well. I can hear the cracks in his voice as he tries to regain composure. It's definitely not helping to calm my nerves down.

Damask shrugs off a lot of the questions he's asked, up until he's out of time. And now there's only two tributes left before my turn.

Teff's pink dress is really poofy and bright. She's also wearing some ridiculous heels she's struggling to walk in. For the most part, her interview goes rather well, up until the very last minute. Tears start running down her face and her voice is strained.

"I just miss my family...I want to come back home to them and I don't want them to...oh God!"

Magaz's suit it a bright white with accents that are an almost copper colour. His tie has green and brown designs all over it. In comparison to Teff's interview, he is a lot smoother, and he's probably the most open about his strategy.

"Damask and I have thought out quite a few scenarios that could happen. Not to say we know for sure what's happening, of course. But I trust him with my life and he feels the same way. Both of us want to work together to try and survive."

Now it's my turn.

And the crowd is _deafening._

I rub my hands together but I can barely feel them. I'm too shocked to smile or cry or do anything. There's way more people in front of me than I was expecting. And this is televised too!? Everyone I know is watching...waiting...all eyes are on me...

Then I slowly gaze down to see Rhiannon, Cheyenne, and Kanaya in front row. My heart slows down just enough for me to collect my thoughts as I sit down. I can actually smile this time, for real. Rhiannon flashes me a thumbs up. It's okay, VR. You can do this.

"Welcome Vera-Ryanna! Are you okay, sweetie? You're awfully pale!"  
"I'm fine!" I say quickly, surprised at the volume of my voice. "I'm just a bit excited to be here tonight...I didn't expect so many people here to...to cheer me on!"

The crowd hollers at that and my face flushes red. Are they cheering for me?

"Well, why don't you tell us a bit more about yourself. What did you like to do back in District 10?"  
"I like to write..." I don't dare mention archery, because I don't want to get myself or Angie into any trouble. "It's relaxing for me...it's cool to come up with all these cool worlds and places and visit them in my head...it's fun..."

I remember the words my friends said to me a few days ago. About what they didn't like about my story. About how I was much too sensitive for my own good. I start to giggle hysterically because I don't want to cry. Not here, not now.

"Maybe...once I get out of the Games...I can write a book about it?"  
"Oh, I would totally read that! What's your plans for the Games?"

"Uh..." Shit. Now what? "Well...I think it should be a surprise, shouldn't it? I don't want to spoil things!"  
Everyone laughs. That's good, right? They're laughing with me, not at me. Maybe being up here isn't so bad after all...

"Looks like we're almost out of time! Anything you want to say?"  
"Um...well...to my family...I love you and I want to see you soon..."

I trail off and the buzzer sounds behind me. My time is up.

I don't waste any time leaving the stage; my hands are icy cold. Ellie gives me a small grin as I pass by and all I have the energy to do is just nod in her general direction. Watching the screen over my head, it's not the least bit surprising Whyllis has no problems standing where I just was a few minutes ago. I can't help but feel a little jealous. Why can't I be that confident?

Her interview is much smoother than mine, but also a little tense. When asked if she has any last words, Whyllis jumps to her feet. "Hell yeah I do! Dear Mom and Dad, fuck you for ever doubting me and treating me like shit! You thought I was a waste of time and that I'd never amount to anything!? I can't wait to get back home, kick your asses and show you what the fuck I can actually do!"

Jane's wearing her signature smirk and long light brown dress trailing behind her. Everything about it just screams plain. She rolls up her sleeves and lounges across the chair. I'm expecting her to just annoy everyone into oblivion, so when she starts putting up this cutesy act, it's a huge surprise. Jane pouts and cocks her head sideways, giving off these big doe-eyes.

"Well, it's very nice of you to worry about little old me. I can't believe I have so much support! I hope you're all cheering my name as I cut everyone's heads off, ha ha!"  
Yep, there it is.

Basil nervously fiddles with the green tie of hi simple black suit. He finally straightens it once he's sitting down. But it's a bit of a shock for his language to be so mature and formal, in comparison to what I saw of him at his Reaping. And it doesn't surprise me Jane isn't too fond of him; I can't imagine he'd see the humour in her pranks.

Then he drops a bombshell. "I'm just so glad that everyone I've met has been super supportive of the fact that I'm transgender and do what they can to make me feel comfortable."  
Behind me, Jane scoffs. "I already knew that."

Maryann wears a short red dress with long, flowing sleeves and I can see a pair of white tights poking out underneath. She reminds me of a little red bird, flying across the stage. A feisty bird, at that. Maryann has made it very clear she is not one to be counted out.

"So what I'm young? that won't stop me from winning, will it? You should never underestimate any tributes in the arena and I'm about to prove to you why!"

Leo's interview is the last of the night and he's wearign a bright red tuxedo with a black bowtie. He's scowling at first, but I can see the fear in his eyes. What is he so nervous about? Is it stage fright? The crowd? The dread of tomorrow?

"To any sponsors out there, please consider my alliance. Think about it! You could help us win and we really need you!"

The crowd claps politely as he leaves.

Now that the interviews are finally over, I don't bother hanging around any longer and catch the first elevator back up to my room. I can't wait to take all this makeup off my face. But the adrenaline rush of tonight is starting to wear off leaving me practically terrified for tomorrow.

What's going to happen?

* * *

**The longest chapter of the story so far! What did you think of all the interviews and outfits? Did any surprise you?**

**Now that we're only a few chapters away from the Bloodbath, I'd like to announce that it will be going up on FEBRUARY 15TH. Is that the same date as the PC Bloodbath? Yes. Is that chaotic? Yes. Are you excited? I hope so!**

**See you all next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	16. Lean On Me

**Last chapter before the Bloodbath!**

* * *

_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

_And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on_

_For it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on_

_Please swallow your pride if I have things you need to borrow_

_For no one can fill those of your needs that you won't let show_

* * *

Thirty minutes, ten face wipes, and one change of clothes later, I should be asleep.

But I'm not.

I keep pacing around my room. At this point, I'm beyond exhausted. But every single time I lie down to sleep, I just can't I'm too worried. Too anxious. Too scared. The reality of the Games has long since seeped in and I don't know what to do. No amount of training or sponsors will ever make me feel confident enough.

I just don't want to die.

As I flop down onto my bed yet again, I feel the sound of pots and pans being clattered about from the kitchen. Oh well. If I can't sleep, maybe I can go find someone to talk to, to take my mind off everything. I crack open my door as quietly as I can, then slip myself through. It takes to much to quietly tread across the ground, so I give up and walk normally into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?"  
Whyllis looks up from the table. "Well, what are you doing here?"

"I can't sleep."  
"That's not my problem."  
"Well, why aren't you asleep?"

Whyllis takes a sip form her mug which appears to have water inside. Or maybe it's something else. "Can't you just leave me alone?"

An Avox clad in red hands Whyllis a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it. We lock eyes, then he pours he a glass of cold water before turning back to the grill to make a second sandwich. I take a seat across from Whyllis, not wanting to intrude in her personal space.

Like me, she's taken her makeup and interview outfit off, wearing a fuzzy robe instead. Her hair is much more tangled now and I can see some dark bags under her eyes. Despite being in a much more comfortable position then me, the Games clearly haven't been treating Whyllis kindly either.

I just sigh to myself. "It's stupid thinking I had a bit of a crush on you only a few days ago."  
"Oh really?"  
"I get it. I'm an idiot for thinking that you might feel the same way."

Whyllis cackles. "Well, that actually explains a lot. Not like it would matters anyways. I'm taken."  
"You are?"

"Yeah. I've been dating one of my bandmates for a few months now. Dustin."  
"My friend thinks he's cute."

Whyllis picks the crust off her grilled cheese. "Yep, he is pretty cute. You're too young for me, by the way. And given the circumstances, no way in hell things would ever work out."

I fake a laugh at this. Right. What stupid, childish world was I living in where I ever assumed I'd have a chance? Whyllis was perfectly fine living her life without me. And right, given that we're both trapped in a game of survival the this point, no relationship could ever survive. We're not like Quincy and Anthony, lovebirds under the guise that they can win together.

Everything I've once taken joy in seems pointless to me now. Music. Writing. Archery. At the end of the day, will it even be enough to save me? Will I become just another dead tribute, another name in the history books? Am I doomed to become forgotten?

I wonder if anyone will even mourn me when I'm gone. My parents and my younger brother, perhaps. Maybe Angie and Jess, the only two people I might even call friends at this time. Rhiannon, or at least until the next Games and she has a new tribute to mentor. But they're all destined to forget me eventually.

Whyllis pulls the two halves of her sandwich apart, leaving a long gooey strand of cheese in the middle. The Avox slides a second plate in front of me, then slips off to wherever Avoxes go when they're not cooking. I just stare at it. I'm not really that hungry.

There's a lot of words on my tongue, things I want to say while I have the chance. My thoughts are all jumbled in my head and I don't know how to say any of it. I just blurt out the first coherent sentence I can string without much attention as to what I actually say.

"I'll never get to live long enough to fall in love like you."

Whyllis chokes on her sandwich. "The hell, VR!? Where did that miserable thought come from!?"  
"Give me one good reason not to be miserable tonight."  
"You've got a grilled cheese sandwich."

Fair point. I suddenly feel hungry after all, and pull my sandwich apart. It's perfectly toasted and the cheese is all warm and melted. Whyllis wipes the butter off her fingers with a napkin. "Hey, don't mean to pry, but I figure this is the last time we can talk without trying to kill each other. Do you have any friends in 10?"

"What makes you ask that?"  
"Well, the fact that you said you had a crush on me, and we've never met before. Obviously, that's very clingy and I see in the way you talk and act. Like, you're always so far away from me, as if you're afraid to be around me."

I roll my eyes. Because Whyllis hasn't exactly been the most welcoming person either.

"Okay, fine. Maybe that's kinda my fault. But it's as if you don't want to be near me because you're afraid of doing something wrong. And the fact that during training, you rarely talked to anyone unless they approached you or spoke to you first. I'm probably wrong, but it's like you'd rather detach and avoid everyone, rather than risk looking like an idiot in front of them."

"How do you know that?" I ask quietly.  
"Because I used to do the same shit. Then I got a little more comfortable with my gender and identity and I realized that people's opinions didn't actually matter as much. I didn't have to avoid everyone because one person was a total jerk. I cut contact with all the toxic assholes in my life, especially my parents when they kicked me out, and found people who accepted me for who I am."

I polish off the rest of the sandwich in my hand. "I think your case is a little more extreme than mine. And I don't feel like seeing a therapist right now."  
"I'm not a therapist."  
"You sound like one."

"Well, if you don't feel like listening to me, then that's my cue to leave." Whyllis pushes an empty plate across the table. "Let's make a truce, okay? Tomorrow and onward, I won't try and kill you if you don't try and kill me. If we see each other, we just move along and nothing happens. Sounds good?"  
"Works for me. Goodnight."

Then, I'm left alone.

* * *

**This will be the last chapter before we finally jump into action with the Games and the Bloodbath! What did you think of Whyllis and VR's conversation? Will either of them uphold their truce in the arena?**

**I'm just gonna address sponsoring quickly. You can PM me or DM me on Discord to send a sponsor gift to any character you like, similar to the system in PC, but each reader can send only one gift per chapter. Due to the nature of the story, not all sponsors gifts will be explicitly shown, but I will be keeping track of them myself and factoring them in. So, fret not if you don't see a specific tribute with your gift, because they still got it, it just wasn't shown.**

**Last chance to make Bloodbath predictions! Who do you think will fall? What about VR? Do you think she'll make it out okay?**

**See you all on Feb 15th!**

**-Vr**


	17. We Will Rock You

**It's time!**

* * *

_Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise_

_Playing in the street, gonna be a big man someday_

_You got mud on your face, you big disgrace_

_Kicking your can all over the place, singin'_

_We will, we will rock you_

_We will, we will rock you_

* * *

I nearly throw up my breakfast the next morning as Rhiannon rubs a warm hand over my shoulder. Once I've stopped dry-heaving and hunching over the toilet, she fetches me a glass of water and refuses to let me out of the bathroom until I've downed half of it.

"Hun, I need you to calm down-"  
I begin to hyperventilate as another panic attack takes over. "I can't."  
"Yes you can..."

"No! I can't."

My breathing continues to quicken as I turn back to the toilet and spit into it. Rhiannon hands me the water glass and I slowly down what's left, but it doesn't help. I'm too scared to think straight. All I can do is try not to throw up. I hate throwing up.

Rhiannon gently twirls her bright pink streak of hair around her finger. "Do you feel better now?"  
"I don't know..."  
"Are you at least calmer?"

I'm back at the Reaping, fully breaking down because the little slip of paper between Rhiannon's fingers has my name on it. I was such a mess then and I'm not doing much better now. But knowing that I have someone who wants me to feel better allows me to take a little more control of my breathing and slowly, my body stops shaking.

"Rhiannon, I'm scared."  
"It's okay, hun. It's okay."

Empty words. We both know it's not okay.

When the Peacekeepers come to take Whyllis and I away, I've never been more scared in my life. It's like marching to a death sentence. The hovercraft looks cool from the outside, but I feel so claustrophobic in it, that I just can't focus. Everything is a blur to me, from the take-off, to the large needle pressed into my arm, to the landing and more Peacekeepers marching us off.

I'm brought to a dimly lit room where Kanaya is waiting for me, holding a bag that I guess contains my arena outfit. She gives me a small grin so I just nod at her, flexing my fingers.

"Where's Diamond?"  
"I convinced my superiors that I should be with you instead. I figured you'd be much more comfortable around me."

Kanaya helps me get dressed. The arena outfit is surprisingly simple. Tight black pants with a single white stripe running down either side. An orange tank top with the number 10 over my left breast. I pull on a thin jacket in a dark shade of orange and slip on some bulky boots.

"Climbing boots," Kanaya muses. "The arena terrain must be very rough. And it's clear that you might not have to worry about the temperature dropping too low either. Everything is so thin that it might be pretty warm in there. As for orange, that has always been District 10's colour."

"Right." I have the jacket over my shoulders. "Kanaya...thanks for everything last night..."

"TRIBUTES! PLEASE PROCEED INTO YOUR TUBES!"

"I'll see you on the other side!" Kanaya says in a positive tone. That makes me worry. What if I don't come back?

I step into the tube. That's when the glass door closes behind me, leaving me trapped inside. The glass and smooth and cool to the touch. No way I'll ever be able to climb out of here. Underneath me is a metal plate that suddenly beings to lift me up towards the arena.

A bright orange light shines over me and I can feel myself inching closer and closer. That's when everything suddenly starts to feel really hot and sticky. A few beads of sweat drip down the side of my face. When I finally surface I can see why.

This arena is a literal hell.

I've always heard descriptions of such a place being hot and covered in fire. My little metal plate protrudes from some reddish-blackish rock. The things covers every single spot of land I can see, except for the parts which are filled with lava lakes instead. The rock forms crevices, caves, and towering mountains that could easily bury us all if they fell. The sky is clouded with thin smoke, a bright blazing orange that doesn't feel the least bit welcoming.

And it's _hot_.

The Cornucopia is a gleaming silver, which really makes it stand out among all the red and orange. It's got a lot of stuff packed inside. Crates. Sleeping bags. Racks and rows of all kinds of weapons. And sitting on top of a box of dried goods, is a silver bow and a quiver of arrows.

_I need it._

I need it if I want a chance to win.

The countdown has started. I don't move and neither does anyone else. I remember a Games I saw a while ago, where a tribute jumped off her pedestal to get a head start on the supplies and she was blown up almost instantly. It was such a gruesome and disgusting sight to see. I have to stand and wait like everyone else.

All I can think about is getting that bow. It's a dangerous risk, but it might be worth it all.

I want the chance it can give me to survive.

If I can just grab it and get out of here alive.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

The gong sounds and it catches me off-guard. Everyone bursts off their pedestals at the same time. The only one who doesn't move is Bartleby, standing on his pedestal stoic as ever and watching his allies run for the goods. Gayle is the only one who tries to run in the opposite direction. Flynn grabs the first thing he sees, a coil of wire and a spear, and they both take off.

I turn around and the bow is gone.

Whyllis has several spears themself and for a brief moment, we both look each other in the eye. I just shake my head, while they nod and turn away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Abril grab Teff and throw her directly at Quincy, before she freezes up as Karen jumps at her and shoves a dagger into her stomach. Teff falls too, as a knife is thrown directly at her by Quincy. The first kills of the Bloodbath have officially happened.

Shit, where is that bow?

I grab the first thing I see, a tiny grey backpack. I can see Leo running up to me, aiming for the same supplies, but he slumps over as Cindra practically slices through him with a sword. Her eyes fix on me. I got to get out of here, fast! I sling the bag over my shoulders as Cindra gains up on me and-

Ellie bumps into me as all the supplies in her hands spill out and she crashes against the rocky ground. I turn to run. I don't even wait to stick around and see what happens to her.

The bodies start to pile as more and more tributes fall at the hands of other. I trip over Karen's body, her entire chest having been torn open. Jane is being chased around by Anthony, until she sneaks up on her confused district partner and gives him a shove. Anthony cuts down Basil instead as Jane begins to run. As Basil falls, Maryann begins to sob while Sitka grabs her hand and tries to pull her away.

I should get out of here now. But I don't want to leave without that bow. I can't find it anywhere!

Cindra is on the other side of the Cornucopia, standing over the body of Magaz, the only tribute so far who's taken down a Career. Tyrone has a blowgun; wait what!? A blowgun!? He aims it at two tributes who smash into each other trying to escape. Tyrone's dart lands in Delta's brain while Whyllis jumps onto Damask and shoves a spear into his chest. I see Ethan trying to lug a crate over his shoulders before giving up and throwing it to the ground.

Somehow, Ellie is back on her feet, curled up behind a crate, slowly crawling somewhere. I see a brief flash of something long and silver before Opal is suddenly shoving me to the ground. My knees bump up against the hard rock. Ouch. They're probably bruised. But as I stumble to my feet, I come to a dreadful realization.

I can't find the bow anywhere. I missed my chance to grab it and it's gone.

More screams as tributes chase each other, attack each other, and fall to the ground, dead. I take off to run, but I need to get past Bartleby, who hasn't moved at all. I don't want to face a Career, especially without a weapon to defend myself with. But he just raises his eyebrows at me and shrugs. What's he doing? Is he going to try and kill me?

"Hey!"

Wouldn't you know it, it's Jane. She too is no longer hanging around for all the chaos, but I can see her limping as blood drips from her ankle. She has a small red satchel in her arms and gives me that annoying smirk of hers, opening her mouth to probably sass me again-

When Whyllis's spear suddenly pokes through her chest.

More blood begins to drip from her mouth, but she twists her body around at the very last minute and hunks a large gob of bloody spit into Whyllis's face. They jump back, obviously startled, as Jane begins to crawl away. I can hear her hysterical laughter from here as it's suddenly cut short when Whyllis spears her a second time. I snatch up her little red satchel by its strap.

And now I'm running.

I'm too numb to feel my legs carrying me somewhere far away from here. My heart pounds like never before. I'm tired, too tired to continue. I keep running anyways. To where? I'm not sure. All I know is that I don't want to be here anymore. I've seen so many die in the span of a few minutes in the hell of a nightmare.

Bartleby didn't continue after me, like I expected him to. Maybe there's more temping victims still inside the Cornucopia. By now, everyone who's not dead must've fled, right? How many have died so far? It's such a blur. For all I know, twenty tributes could've fallen at each other's hands. Maybe less?

I think of Whyllis, shoving spears through bodies like a second nature. Just last night, they were so much calmer. What has snapped in them to lead to them taking people out like that? Something about this arena and these Games changes us from normal kids to bloodthirsty murderers in only a matter of seconds. It turned Whyllis from a heartbreaking drummer to one of the deadliest tributes in the game.

My throat hurts and my eyes are burning. I want something to eat, something to drink. I want to sleep. I want to hide away and pretend everything is normal. I'm not in the Hunger Games. I'm not going to panic. I will not. I can't! I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't...

I lean up against a jagged rocky surface as tears run down my face. Truth is, I'm scared.

I can't hear anything, except for faint bubbling, small pebbles tumbling down those giant mountains, my own pants as I catch my breath. Now would be a good time to sort out my supplies. I open Jane's satchel first, because it feels almost empty. But there's something inside. I hope it's useful.

I flip over the satchel, shake it, and out falls a lighter.

A _lighter_.

I am going to cry, but out of frustration this time because _are you kidding me!?_ This arena is made out of fire! What good would a tiny little lighter do for me!? What good is it worth. I toss the satchel aside and open up my backpack. There better be something better in here.

A canteen full of water. A roll of bandages. Three packs of dried meat. A second lighter. A pair of socks.

Well, that's pretty good.

I pack everything up, stuffing the two useless lighters into the satchel. That's when I hear the cannons fire, signaling the Bloodbath is over. Nine. Nine in total. Nine tributes lost their lives today.

It's painful to think about.

What will the following days bring?

* * *

_Current Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Bartleby, Troy, Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_Mad Scientists:_ Gayle, Flynn

_The Sole Anti-Career:_ Opal

_Cute and Traumatized Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_Brute, Bitter, and Bloodthirsty:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Somehow not dead?:_ Ellie

_All of his alliance got nerfed in like the first twenty seconds feels bad kid:_ Ethan

_The protagonist could really use a hug right now:_ VR

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 2 (Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 1 (Basil)

Quincy: 1 (Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

* * *

**24th place: Abril Schumacher, District 6. Stabbed in the stomach by Karen.**

**Abril's form said that she would try to sacrifice a younger tribute to save herself in the Bloodbath, and the temptation for her to die afterwards as retribution for that was just too tempting. However, I also received word that she had apparently been resubmitted shortly after I accepted her to another story. My rules on resubmissions dooms her to this fate, but she still was such an interesting character with a dramatic backstory. Thanks for her, MRKenn!**

**23rd place: Teff Bran. Knife to chest by Quincy.**

**Having been put in a compromising position by her ally is what did Teff in. I liked her because she was very sweet little girl, but could easily fall victim to such a ruthless maneuver. She was realistically vulnerable, and just had a pretty bad hand coming into the arena. Thanks for her, NamelessPanda!**

**22nd place: Leo Pamtorth, District 12. Run through by Cindra.**

**And for the first time, we finally see just what Cindra is capable of. Reading Leo's form reminded me of the stereotypical lazy and rebellious teenager, which is always fun to have. In comparison to his alliance, he definitely wasn't as well-behaved and pretty capable of stirring up some chaos if he really wanted to. Unfortunately, he was caught off-guard by one of the deadliest Careers in the story. Thanks for him, James!**

**21st place: Karen Angenellis, District 5. Chest torn open by Magaz.**

**Karen was hilarious. A spunky, overconfident girl who tried way too hard to become a Career and actually succeeded for a short period of time. She was so much fun to write, because she was so egotistical and a sore loser. Plat, this is probably a bit surprising that she places here and not Troy, but I had plans for him whereas I couldn't see her going too far before she eventually fell from grace. But thank you so much for her!**

**20th place: Basil Garland, District 11. Throat slit by Anthony.**

**It was fun to write Jane and Basil's behind-the-scenes spats, because he was stickler for authority, she thought he was ruining her fun, and they didn't share the same sense of humour. Of course, that's what Jane told us. I had a feeling Basil wouldn't make it very far and truth be told, I didn't really have any plans for him, unlike the rest of his allies. So RIP little buddy. Thanks for him, Pi!**

**19th place: Magaz Hector, District 9. Stabbed repeatedly by Cindra.**

**What happens when you kill a Career in the middle of the Bloodbath? Her ally avenges her by killing you! Despite being a big, older dude, Magaz was a gentle giant of sorts, and pretty friendly. His plan was to ally with everyone so they'd become too emotionally attached to kill him, which is very clever and original. Thanks for him, TheOriginalCin!**

**18th place: Damask Weave, District 8. Speared through the chest by Whyllis.**

**Damask definitely got a bit unlucky here. I always enjoyed writing out his alliance in comparison to Whyllis and Tyrone, another pair of older tributes, since he and Magaz were a lot calmer and gentler. Unfortunately, it's a case of wrong place in the wrong time. Thanks for him, NamelessPanda!**

**17th place: Delta Marris, District 3. Blowdart to the head by Tyrone.**

**Unfortunately, Delta was very lowkey and didn't seem to stand out a lot. Then again, she was always very sullen, quiet, and closed-off, which was an interesting contrast to her ally, Ellie. I don't have anything against that, since I find that to be pretty realistic, especially in her situation where she's trapped in the arena with a bunch of strangers. Thanks for her, justanotherwriter02!**

**16th place: Jane Dough, District 11. Speared by Whyllis.**

**Was this a big surprise to anyone? I'm not entirely sure. But as much as I loved Jane, I knew that her antics would catch up to her eventually. Realistically, her odds were pretty low since she goofed off a lot during training. But she still brought so much flavour to the story, a hilarious dynamic with so many tributes, and she goes out in a blaze of glory. Thank you so much for this mischievous little doughnut, Plat!**

* * *

**So there was the Bloodbath! What did you think? Did the number of deaths surprise you? How about VR's situation?**

**Sponsoring is now open! PM me a sponsor gift to send to any tribute in the story! No limits on what can be sent, but each person can only send one gift per chapter to keep things from getting way out of control. And the dead tributes probably won't open any gifts you send to them, of course.**

**I'll see you all next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	18. Day 1: Games Without Frontiers

**Day 1:**

* * *

_Whistling tunes, we hide in the dunes by the seaside_

_Whistling tunes, we're kissing baboons in the jungle_

_It's a knockout_

_If looks could kill, they probably will_

_In games without frontiers_

_War without tears_

* * *

It's hot.

I consider taking off my jacket, before I feel a strange sensation of sweat running down the insides of my arms. Ugh, gross. I decided to keep my jacket on because no matter how hot I am, I don't want anyone to see my sweaty underarms and they stains they've surely created in this shirt.

I'm so thirsty, but I don't dare drink anything yet. It's fine. I can go a bit longer without a sip of water. I need to ration it out anyways. Who knows how long these Games will take? Plus, someone might send me some water...hopefully...

I kick at a loose rock lying on the ground, sending it straight into the nearest pool of lava. Tears blur my eyes and they sting. Who the fuck am I kidding? Who actually wants to sponsor me? Who wants to support me and the coward I am?

"Give it up, VR! Nobody actually cares enough about you to save you! They'd all rather focus on someone else instead!"

Right. I'm dead girl walking. I have limited supplies, no weapons, unless you count the two useless lighters. I'm all alone with nobody to support me. I'm not the kind of tribute you cheer for, but one you pity instead. I did nothing to help Jane or stop Whyllis, or even managed to get that stupid bow.

Why do I fail so miserably at everything?

I just keep walking on, because there's really nowhere I really need to be at this point. Maybe I'll find something useful along the way. Like another rock. Yeah, like I actually have the strength to throw it at someone's head.

Do I have it in me? To do what Whyllis did, cut down everyone else without even thinking about my actions. Not in a clean and quick way either; Jane's fate was anything but that. Drawing it out, for the suspense, the drama, the action. I've got to kill someone, and I've got to make it interesting. Don't I want people to watch me?

Except I don't think I can do it.

I wanted to vomit, watching all the carnage around me. It's amazing I even had the guts to stay for as long as I did, instead of fleeing away when the first blood was spilled. How depressing.

Anyways, the scenery's all the same. Luckily, the lava pools are all in different shapes or sizes, so I can tell that at the very least, I'm not walking in circles. How amusing _that_ would be. My throat hurts and sweat is constantly dripping down the side of my face. Ugh. I just want a drink of water, but I can't. Not yet.

There's a faint beeping over my head, and I catch a glimpse of a silver parachute. It slowly floats down, carrying what looks like a sword with it. There's a tag hanging off the handle. I quickly grab it, where a bright orange 10 can be seen, with a note tucked underneath. Is this for me?

_VR,_

_A sponsor sent in the funds for a machete for you. Use it wisely and protect yourself. Continue playing the game. Do what you must._

_Love,_

_Rhiannon._

"Thanks Rhiannon," I say, pocketing the note. This is useful indeed. It's not a bow, but a weapon is a weapon. I approach the nearest pool of lava, tossing the tag and the parachute inside. I don't want to leave anything that can be traced to me. Not like there's much to trace, though. I can't even see my own footsteps.

_Continue playing the game._

_Do what you must._

That suddenly gives me a pretty stupid idea...

I use the machete to try and break some of the rocks dine into a finer dust, which I then smear all over my face and in my hair. There's really no reason for me to be doing this; the orange of my jacket gives me away. But I glance at my reflection and there's something strange about the girl who stares back at me. She's a little harder to pick out over the redness of the arena. She looks insane. Unhinged. It's kind of scary.

Hmmm...

The lava pool suddenly flares up, sending a large wave of fire into the air. had I been standing only a few feet closer, I'd be dead. Probably a hint from the Gamemakers that standing around get ms nowhere. They're not wrong. I should be looking for the other tributes.

The machete handle feels weird. I've never held one before. They're actually pretty common in 10, where everyone who works in a slaughterhouse has one. I don't like slaughterhouses. I could never bear to be inside one, even for just a single minute.

"A weapon is a weapon, VR," I remind myself.

After a few more minutes of walking, I become aware of a strange shape in the distance. it's obviously moving, veering from side to side in some strange dance. The bright pink jacket tells me everything I need to know. Another tribute. An armed one at that. They're carrying a bow with them, and something else in their free hand while a quiver of arrows rest on their shoulders.

I heave up the machete in what I hope is a very threatening position. I need to be ready to attack should they get any closer. I know for a fact that I will never forgive myself for what I might have to do, but I don't wanna die. Not yet, not now. Rhiannon and the sponsors have shown me that I'm worth something after all. I can't let them down.

The tribute collapses to the ground in a pillow of red smoke. Then I hear the cannon fire.

They're dead.

Suddenly, I'm running over to the tribute and checking their body, which lies face first in the ground. I gently lift their face up. It's Ellie. I feel a pang in my heart. This somehow, is so much different from watching everyone else in the Cornucopia get mowed down by others. I actually talked to Ellie, had a connection with her. It's almost like watching an old friend die.

Flipping her over, I see the faint red smile in her neck, as well as the slash of red running in a slanted line across her stomach, probably thanks to Cindra. Somehow, she escaped her alive, but there's no way she could survive her injuries.

"Sorry..." I muter quietly to the girl who can't hear me. "Sorry. Ellie. That this had to happen to you..."  
There's no reply. Haunting.

"I hope you're happy now, wherever you are. Also, hope you don't mind..."

I loosen the bow from her fingers, as well as a canteen of water. Neat. Then, I flip her back onto her face and pull the quiver free from her body. I slip it over my own shoulder. After some careful thinking, I finally cut her jacket free. It might come in handy later.

"You don't mind if I take it, do you? No! Thanks Ellie."

The rest of the day is spent slicing up Ellie's jacket into thin pink strips of cloth I can use as replacement bandages, as well as repacking my supplies. I slip my machete into my bag along with the second water canteen, opting to keep the bow and quiver lying out instead. Just when I thought I'd never get my hands on it.

The sky is a much darker shade of orange now; it must be getting close to nighttime. It feels weird, because I'm used to the sky being almost black, and seeing them on over my head. Instead, I see a little blue projection appear, showing off the faces of the tributes that have lost their lives today. I just watch, blinking back tears.

Delta. Karen. Abril. Damask. Ellie. Magaz. Teff. Basil. Jane. Leo.

Then it's over, as if it never even happened.

I remember watching the 19th Hunger Games at home with my parents. It felt like a TV show of some sorts, because I had no connection to any of the tributes. Of course I was rooting for District 10, but I had never known them personally. When they showed the faces, it was sad but I never thought much of it. To me, it was just a game. Yet, I always wondered how the tributes could turn on each other so easily.

Now, I still don't know how the tributes could turn on each other so easily.

It's still a game, but it feels much more real.

* * *

**15th place: Ellie Corzin, District 8. Bled out from injuries caused by Cindra.**

**Ellie got a bit of a shitty hand in the arena. She survived her run-in with Cindra, got some supplies out of the whole thing, but unfortunately, her injuries were just too much for her body to take. I never expected her to grow on me so much. She and VR really bonded over how similar they were; they just kinda had an instant click. Too bad VR is pretty stupid at making allies. Thank you so much for Ellie, James!**

* * *

_Current Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Bartleby, Troy, Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_Mad Scientists:_ Gayle, Flynn

_Cute and Traumatized Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_The Three Bs (Brute, Bitter, Bloodthirsty):_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_The Sole Anti-Career:_ Opal

_Still Very Much Alone:_ Ethan

_What Is This, Lord Of The Flies!?_ VR

* * *

Kills:

Cindra 3 (Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 1 (Basil)

Quincy: 1 (Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

* * *

**The Bloodbath may be over, but the arena is still very deadly. Also, the sponsor gifts are officially pouring in! Thanks to everyone who sent them in! Your sponsors have been officially renewed for this chapter!**

**And another one bites the dust! Did the death in this chapter surprise you? Is VR making the right call in trying to camouflage herself, or is it just a waste of time? Was it smart of her to pillage Ellie of all her supplies? What will happen in Day 2?**

**See you all in the next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	19. Day 2: Danger Zone

**Day 2:**

* * *

_Out along the edges_

_Always where I burn to be_

_The further on the edge_

_The hotter the intensity_

_Highway to the danger zone_

_Gonna take you right into the danger zone_

* * *

I gulp about maybe one third of a water canteen the next morning. Honestly, I really could've saved some of it, but I haven't had anything to drink since getting in here. I'm beyond parched. And the water is delightfully cold.

I wipe the few remaining drops from my lips. Now it's time to get to business.

First thing I do is order my supplies in a way that makes the most sense from me. Pretty much everything, except the machete, can easily be shoved into my backpack. The only downside is, I have to wear it in front of me, or else it interferes with my quiver, which sits around my left shoulder. I want to sling the bow on too, but I don't want to break it.

Now I hold the bow in my right hand, and the machete on my left. I've used the satchel to fashion a makeshift holster, to which Ellie's torn up jacket has come in handy extending it a little. Now I have one hand free to grab an arrow whenever I need it.

I could always downsize my gear. But I'll be damned if I give up anything in this arena. Even those stupid lighters.

Breakfast consist of half a pack of dried meat. I've never eaten meat for breakfast before, and it's really tough to chew. It's fine. I can save the other half for later. Or maybe I shouldn't. I don't have much food left. I really need to start conserving it.

Anyways, there's gotta be some ground that I haven't explored yet. Just how big is this arena anyways? I hope it's large. That way I don't have to run into any tributes.

Then I hear the sweet, sweet sound of a sponsor gift. The beeping continues until two parcels has finally landed at my feet, with a 10 on the tag. Yep, it's for me. The first one is about six arrows. I quickly stash them in my quiver, which is starting to get a little heavy. I unwrap the second to reveal...um...okay, I have absolutely no clue what it is. Maybe the note will say?

_Go nuts for coconuts! Drink up!_

Well...I'm still very confused.

I stash the strange "nut" in my bag; I've already eaten my rations for today, so I should really save it for when I desperately need to eat. Or drink. Whatever. Half a dried meat pack can keep me going. There's probably tributes eating less today. There's plenty of people in Panem eating nothing at all.

"Hey! Hey you!"

Oh crap. In my attempt to avoid tributes, I've just stumbled upon someone's camp. Flynn and Gayle sit in a tiny ring of wire, which Flynn appears to be playing with. Gayle just jumps to his feet and brandishes his spear in my face. "This is ours! Get out of here!"  
"Okay, okay! I was just leaving!"

"Good." Gayle's voice cracks slightly.

I hurry away before Gayle can think of throwing the spear. I don't know how good he is with it. I don't want to find out.

I find myself aimlessly wandering around for a little longer. That whole incident has shaken me up real good. How close am I to the other tributes? What if they're trying to hunt me down? I find myself constantly looking over my shoulder, but there's nobody there.

Then I hear someone shout, as other voice laugh along.

Oh no.

I'm running now, and I don't care where I'm going as long as it's away from here. There's a mountain made of rock; climb, climb, climb! I can squeeze myself inside the little dark alcove that's only big enough for one person, flipping around so both my hands are free and I have enough room to fire an arrow, just in case.

There's a boy wearing a dirty white jacket and carrying a backpack, followed by two intertwined flashes of blue. I grimace. There's only one pair of tributes in this arena attached to the hip like that. But they're both carrying spears that I have no doubt are lethal.

"Hello." the man in white says politely. "I don't believe we've met before. I'm Bartleby."  
Okay, Bartleby. Two can play at that game.

I cock my head to the side and bat my eyes, noticing Bartleby tense up briefly. "I'm Vera-Ryanna. But that's kinda long, don't you think?"  
"Um, sure..."  
"I let my friends call me VR. But I'm not so sure about you. Are you a friend?"

Quincy groans loudly as Anthony wraps his arms around their waist. "What are you waiting for, oaf!?"  
_Please don't kill me._ "I'm waiting for him to answer my question," I say, hoping my even tone hides how nervous I actually feel. I can't mess this up. "So..are you a friend?"

"Okay kid, come down now," Bartleby stutters ever so slightly. It doesn't seem that the District 4 tributes notice. "We don't have all day."  
Anthony points his spear directly at me. I quickly raise my bow as he snarls. "Don't worry kid, if ya just cooperate, Quin and I will make it very painless for you. Or as painless as we can."

"No! You don't want to kill me just yet!"

Anthony howls while Quincy rolls her eyes. "Hurry up and shank her, babe."  
"Well...I...if you kill me, I won't tell you how to infiltrate the camp!"

Anthony lowers his spear by just a bit. I can't believe that actually worked. But I have no choice but to keep going. "Y-yeah. Gayle and Flynn, did you know they're really really smart? Like, they have this wire, and I saw they managed to get an electric current through it...and they almost tried to electrocute me with it! But I saw them turn it off. If you let me, I'll show you where their camp is and how to turn the wire off before they kill you guys first!"

I hope that nobody realizes that all of what I've just said is complete and utter bullshit.

Anthony raises his arm, but Bartleby intervenes. "Hold on. Let's give her a chance. We can just...we can...kill her afterwards...Cindra will be pleased..." The District 4 tributes nod assent. Quincy easily scales up the rock, grabs my ankle, and pulls me down.  
"Show us where they are, brat. Then we'll have to skewer you. Sound good?"

No. No, it doesn't sound good.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Gayle and Flynn aren't too far away. I spot them first, just quietly pointing them out to the Careers. "There."  
Anthony frowns. "I don't see anything."  
"No, no, they're there. Do you see now?"

"I do," Bartleby says quietly. Quincy and Anthony both perk up, holding their spears high. Quincy even unsheaths a knife; how did I miss that earlier? Then, they're both running in the general direction of Flynn and Gayle, who have most certainly spotted them now. Quincy's spear lands in Flynn's stomach and I hear Gayle scream. I glance over at Bartleby, then the carnage...

Then I run.

I hear Anthony shout something, but I'm going to stay and ask him to repeat himself. He's only got one spear, and he's gotta yank it out of a body before he can get to me. My biggest threat is Bartleby, but he's not going to follow after me. No, he let me go. Why is that? Did his allies know? Has he been doing this the whole time?

The cannons fire. One. Two. Two boys I led to their deaths.

Oh. My. God. I led two boys to their deaths.

_What have I done!?_

* * *

**14th place: Flynn McIntyre, District 5. Speared in the stomach by Quincy.**

**Flynn was fun to work with, but unfortunately, he died before he got the chance to really show off just how clever he was. I do feel kinda bad, but I couldn't work out a way for him to display his crazy mad scientist skills. I liked his dynamic with Gayle, since it was different than some of the other pairs we've seen. Thanks for him, Paradigm!**

**13th place: Gayle Apollox, District 3. Speared in the chest by Anthony.**

**Gayle started off very strong, since he volunteered for his boyfriend and all that. He was very lowkey, so I think that's what caused him to fade in the background a little bit. Also very smart, but he didn't have a lot of supplies to work with, and he and Flynn didn't get the chance to show off their skills. If his submitter is reading this, thanks for him!**

* * *

_Current Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Bartleby, Troy, Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_The Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_The Three Bs: Tyrone, Whyllis_

_The Sole Anti-Career:_ Opal

_He's Vibin, Somewhere:_ Ethan

_VR Why!?_ VR

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 3 (Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

* * *

**Woahhhhhhhhh, we're halfway there!**

**What did you guys think of this chapter? Did the deaths surprise you? Do you think VR's plan worked, or she's still got tributes hot on her trail? And yes, half the tributes are dead, half are still kicking!**

**See you all next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	20. Day 3: All Things Must Pass

**Day 3:**

* * *

_All things must pass_

_All things must pass away_

_All things must pass_

_None of life's strings can last_

_So, I must be on my way_

_And face another day_

* * *

I'm not used to running on so little sleep.

But I haven't been able to close my eyes at all. Heck, I'm not sure if I can't sleep or if I don't want to. There's this creepy feeling that someone is watching me. I haven't seen anyone since yesterday. I don't want to see anyone. I still can't believe what I've done.

_Yeah, whatever. So you're not innocent. There's plenty of other tributes in here who've done worse things. It's not like that was your intention or you actually got your hands dirty. You harmed nobody. You were just trying to stay alive._

I know. I do want to live. But I still feel so guilty...

_What more could you have done?_

The strip of dried meat sticks to the mouth of my mouth; I wrap up what's left of it and stash it in my bag, which is starting to get heavy. But that's a good thing. I have food at water. I lick my lips and realize just how dry my throat is. The hot arena air certainly isn't helping either.

But I must be on my way. If I'm gonna try and avoid everyone else, the least I can do is make some attempt to be interesting by going somewhere else. Hopefully the Gamemakers think I deserve a little rest after all that happened yesterday.

I am so tired. Maybe I should be resting instead. No, I can't risk it. It's gonna be fine. There are worse problems in the arena than exhaustion. Like...maybe getting stabbed in the chest, or having a spear thrown at me...my throat getting cut open...even burning to death in one of those lava pools. I shudder. Why did I think of those things?

Beep.

Another sponsor gift. Judging by the fact it takes four parachutes to carry this one, I've got something big coming. It has to be for me. I'm all alone.

Unless...

Nope. I am not going to think about it. I hurry over to the sponsor gift. It's a basket of tomatoes. Ugh, gross. By themselves, tomatoes are gross, they're just so squishy and messy. If this was a big tub of tomato sauce, I wouldn't mind. But why tomatoes?

Beggars can't be choosers, I guess. Food is food. Unfortunately, this gift didn't come with a note. And unless I lug it around with both of my hands, it's staying put. Do I really have to take this basket with me? I guess I could set up a camp here.

I drag the basket over to a nearby rock formation and duck behind it. I can hide out here. As long as I'm careful, I should have a good view of any approaching tributes. Then I can try and shoot them...or maybe run...I came so close to almost getting a spear shoved through me last time. Way too close. It's not worth anything.

The biggest problem with my location is that I'm not covered enough. But hopefully, I can make this work. I just have to keep an eye out and hope nobody notices me.

Then I see someone approaching.

I crouch low, then load an arrow into my bow. My hands are shaking and I can't get it right. Finally, it locks in with a little snap. But I can't shoot it very well while crouching so I stand up and duck behind the rocks. Please don't notice me, whoever you are.

A girl about my age finally comes into view, wearing a dirtied white uniform. I see the sword in her hands as I point the arrow straight at her. I hope she can't see how nervous I am. Oh God, I really don't want to do this...

"Don't shoot!"

She freezes up and throws her hands up in the air. "Don't shoot me, please!"  
Two thoughts run through my head. The first one being _oh, I really need to kill her now._ The second one is _I can't do this_. The second thought wins out and I lower my bow.

She breathes loudly and sighs. "Oh thank goodness. You're nothing like them."  
"Who's them?"  
"Don't worry about it. Um...you're from 10, right? I'm Opal."

"Vera-Ryanna," I take the arrow from the bow and shove it back into my quiver. "I had a nasty run-in with your district partner yesterday."  
"Yeah right, He's harmless. I could easily kill him if I wanted!" Opal waves her hands around as she talks, and that means waving her sword around too. Please don't stab me...

"Um yeah...okay...tomato?"  
"I'd love one!" Opal bites into it like it's an apple. The loud squish makes me cringe. She licks her lips too, smacking them together. Ugh. I briefly consider loading my bow again. But that would be pretty petty of me, wouldn't it?

Opal finishes off her snack. "Man, that's good! And they're so fresh too! Come on, they're yours, are they not?"  
"I'm not hungry."  
"Oh, that's too bad." She shrugs.

There's something off about the cheerfulness of Opal's voice, the way she smiles at me. She seems harmless enough, but that means nothing. I get a strange knot in my stomach that's telling me to leave, to get out of here while I still can.

I start to walk away.

"Hey, if you're not going to eat these, can I take them? Oh, you also don't mind if I have your bow too? I've always wanted to try it out."  
"What? No! I need it!" I try to pick up my pace, but Opal grabs onto the bow and tries to tug it out of my hands.

"Give it to me!" she screams as I pull back. But my hands are too sweaty and she's clearly stronger than me. I can feel the bow slipping away. Opal lunges at me and I swing my quiver around, trying to smack her in the face. But she grabs it as well, as both my bow and arrows are tossed to the side. My back burns from where the quiver strap cut into it.

Then I feel something a sharp pain across my stomach.

My orange shirt, already dirty from a few days of sleeping on the ground, has a large red stain going across it. Opal's sword hangs beside her, with a little bit of blood on it. My blood. The pain practically explodes and I clutch at myself before it can tear me apart. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

Opal's boot comes flying into my gut, which just makes things worse. I can barely catch myself and the impact of the ground just makes things worse. Come on VR, get up and fight! Get up and catch her...she's leaving now...she has your bow...your arrows...you could get them back...

There's an ugly taste in my mouth as I spit out a wad of blood, which just hangs over my lips, dripping onto the rock. I've never felt anything like this. Why does it hurt so much? When will it stop hurting? I can't move, it pains me too much.

I'm going to die. Here. Alone. While everyone in Panem watches.

Tears sting my eyes and slip down my cheeks, the saltiness mixing with the taste of blood. I don't want to die. I should never have trusted her. I was so stupid! What didn't I shoot her when I had the chance!? Why did I let her live!? Why...

I want to close my eyes. I don't bother fighting this feeling. Everything is dark now...so black...

The last thing I notice is the quiet bubbling of lava.


	21. Night 3: Come As You Are

**Night 3:**

* * *

_Come as you are_

_As you were_

_As I want you to be_

_As a friend, as a friend_

_As an known enemy_

* * *

I feel...light.

Everything's spinning and my head hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut, before I'm aware of a dulling pain in my gut and it all comes flooding back to me. The sky above me is orange and red, there's the smell of something burning, it's much too hot to be home and...

"Hey you, you're finally awake."

I grab my bag, which is lying open nearby for some reason, and reach inside for my machete. Once I feel the handle, I whip it out and point it straight at...Ethan. What's he doing here? How long has he been here? What has he done to me...

_Am I dead?_

More pain explodes and I grab at my stomach. Or, more accurately, the mess of bandages wrapped around my stomach. Ethan sucks in his breath and sighs. "I'm not good at patch jobs."  
"Did you take this from my bag? And my jacket! Where's my jacket!?"

"I cleaned it for you!" Ethan gestures vaguely at my jacket, which is sitting nearby on some rocks. "It had some blood on it, so I figured you'd like it cleaned."  
It's taking me way too damn long to process everything. I wake up here, sitting next to a boy who could've killed me by now, who wrapped a bunch of bandages around my stomach, cleaned off my clothes for me, but didn't take any of my supplies?

Though it seems Ethan has a few things of his own. I see a bottle of wine poking out of his bag, some hoodie and...a teddy bear?

Ethan fishes the bear out of his bag. "This is Walter. He's my new best friend. Say hi to him or he'll end you." Walter "waves" a knife around as if making a point.  
"Uhhhh...hi, Walter. How are you?"

Walter says nothing. Of course he'd say nothing. He's a teddy bear. Teddy bears don't speak.

Ethan casually stuffs Walter back into his bag. "Walter thinks you're cool. Anyways, what's new with you?"  
"Aside from me almost bleeding out to my death?"  
"Yeah, aside from that. Before I saved you. Duh!"

I quickly recount everything thus far. Ethan just sits cross-legged across from my, resting his elbows on his ankles and his chin on his hands. "Yeeeesh. That's pretty fucking rough. I guess you should be happy that Opal chick didn't try and yeet you in some lava, huh?"  
"Yeah...guess I got that going for me?" I rub some ash off my forehead. "Ethan, I'm not in the mood for jokes right now."

"I have some fancy-ass red wine if you need to drown your sorrows with a drink."  
"No no, it's fine." I don't even care for wine anyways. "I just...I'm so stupid! How could I let her take the bow away from me!?"

Ethan opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a beep signaling yet another sponsor gift. It slowly drifts down, before Ethan catches it and hands it to me. "I think this is yours."

I can barely hold the gift in my lap, let alone open it up, so Ethan does it for me. It's a roll of bandages, plus some painkillers. I study the little vial of pills, then pick up the note that came with it. It's from Cheyenne this time. Can't wait to hear her prophetic words of wisdom.

_Please take care of yourself. Also, this shit is expensive. Use it wisely._

Right. Like my biggest priority at the moment is nursing a painkiller addiction. I pop one of the pills anyways (Ethan has to pry open the vial for me), chasing it down with some cool water. Oh yeah, water. The other canteen is full, but this one's down to about half. Then again, Ethan did pour a bunch of it on my jacket.

Speaking of Ethan, he's clearly famished. I sigh a hand the canteen over. He gulps the entirety of it down, careful to avoid the spot where I put my lips. Not like it matters that much anyways. But now we're down to a single canteen of water between two of us.

"So...what about you? Sorry about your allies."  
"It's okay. I mean, I'm kinda over it now, y'know? Sometimes, it be like that. But I got this cool kangaroo onesie to make me feel better."  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

I shove all my stuff back into my bag. "At least the sponsors seem to like us. Or, at least they like you. They're probably pissed off with me right now."  
"Are you sure about that?"

"Positive," I say, even though I don't feel very positive right now. That medicine and and the bandages are probably the last thing I'll get. If we really need to use an entire roll each time, then I've got maybe four days before I can't keep from bleeding out. At least the painkillers will make it hurt a little less.

"Who's that?"  
"Who's what?" I ask, before Ethan points it out to me. I can see someone running to us, wearing a bright red version of our arena uniform. He looks familiar, and I feel like I should know who he is, but he quickly collapses and proceeds to vomit all over the place, nearing covering Ethan's shoes.

"Ugh!" Ethan jumps back in disgust. "Dude, what the fuck!?"  
"It's her...she...she-"  
"Who are you talking about?"

The newcomer doesn't answer us, just rolls onto his side, clutching a satchel tightly. Troy. I remember his name now. "Cindra...she...he's...dead..."  
Oh fuck. "Someone killed Cindra?"

"No...she was mad...Quincy told her...Bartleby...so she..."

Troy begins to wheeze, grabbing at his chest. "Saw her shove...poked right through his...grabbed a bag and...ran..."

A cannon fires out. Troy just points weakly to the sky. "That."  
I still don't get what he's trying to say, but if we just wait a little longer, the faces of the dead will show up, hopefully confirming his story. I just glance up at Ethan, whose face is really hard to read. But he eventually looks over at me and I give him a shake of the head which says _what do we do about this guy?_

Ethan shrugs. Great. Now it's up to me to figure things out.  
"Troy, if you want, you can stay with us. You don't have to go back...to your allies, if you don't want to."  
Troy finally calms down. "Yeah, I'd...I'd like that...thanks."

It's getting darker, I think. Still very hard to tell. But then I see the holograms pop up. There's a single face, that of Bartleby, the boy from 1. Troy lets out a small sigh and I feel pretty disappointed as well. Bartleby has really been a saving grace, allowing me to escape his alliance unharmed. He could've killed me twice, but he didn't.

"Is this bad?" Ethan asks.  
"I don't know," I mutter under my breath. There's one less person between me and home, but at the same time, who'd dare to harm Bartleby of all people? And if Troy's story makes sense, Cindra did so in a fit of anger. Over what?

Troy shakes his head. "He's been letting people go, rather than going after them."  
I flip over a small rock lying next to me. "I should know. He let me go twice."

Troy blinks in surprise, but doesn't comment. Maybe he's too exhausted. I know I am. It's been a hell of a day.

I could be dead, but I'm not. I've got two supposed awkward allies, a good amount of supplies, a clotting wound, and only ten tributes left to face. Not favourable conditions, but things could be worse. They certainly could be worse.

* * *

**12th place: Bartleby Richmond, District 1. Run through by Cindra.**

**Bartleby was a very interesting Career. He was very mysterious; while his allies were all cutthroat and bloodthirsty (with the obvious exception of Troy), he was very stoic, letting people escape with seemingly no reason and no desire to kill. Unfortunately, this made him very frustrating to deal with among his allies and Cindra decided to take matters into her own hands. Thanks for Bartleby, Pi! He was such a fun character!**

* * *

_Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_The Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_Three Bs:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Awkward Trio:_ Troy, Ethan, VR

_All By Herself:_ Opal

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 4 (Bartleby, Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

* * *

**After what happened last chapter, we needed a bit of a calmer one. Though I guess this one was not very calm. But hey, at least VR's got some allies now! Oh yes, and another one bites the dust. RIP Bartleby T_T**

**Did the changes in alliances surprise you? Do you think Vr should stick with Ethan and Troy, or she's better off on her own? We'll have to find next chapter then!**

**-Vr**


	22. Day 4: Don't Stop

**Day 4:**

* * *

_All I want is to see you smile_

_If it takes just a little while_

_I know you don't believe that it's true_

_I never meant any harm to you_

_Don't stop thinking about tomorrow_

_Don't stop, it'll soon be here_

_It'll be, better than before,_

_Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone_

* * *

I nearly freak out when I wake up the next morning. But I have to remind myself, there's no need. These people here are allies. They are not going to hurt me. They want to help...

_Don't get attached VR,_ I think to myself. _This isn't going to last forever. Don't be stupid and think that they actually care about you._

My stomach hurts; either from fear or from stab wounds and I' not sure which sounds better at the moment. I hate being so paranoid all the time, waiting for the day to be over so I can finally put this behind me. People tell me I'm too sensitive and emotional or my own good. Maybe that's a good thing? No, no it's not. Otherwise, I wouldn't be too much of this, too much of that.

I'm going to have to leave my allies at some point or kill them. I don't think I can. After Ethan put in the effort to keep me from bleeding out to my own pathetic death? After Troy ran away from one of the deadliest people left because he felt safer with us? What kind of monster would I be if I just turned my back? Especially since I haven't contributed anything at all!

I've already doomed so many people so far and left them to die. Gayle...Flynn...indirectly, Bartleby was kind of my own fault too. I don't think I could ever forgive myself if...

"What time is it?" Ethan asks loudly, rolling onto his side. A sleepy Troy shushes him.  
"I don't know. But it's morning for sure."  
"What's for breakfast?"

"Dried meat." I hand Ethan one of my two remaining dried meat packs, then tossing the other one towards Troy. "Help yourself."  
"What will you eat?" Troy asks.

I show him the final pack, which only has half of its contents left. "I'm not that hungry."  
"You should eat more," Troy frowns, examining the pack of meat. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"Don't worry about me. It's fine. We need to conserve food anyways."

Ethan tugs at the meat with his teeth. "Hey, more food for us! I'm fucking famished. Anyways, this is some good shit, VR. I can call you VR, right?"  
"Yeah, that's fine by me." The least I can do is let Ethan give me a nickname.

"What does it mean?" Troy says in a quiet voice. "Why didn't your parents just give you a single first name?"  
"It's from both of my grandmothers. It's their middle names; a family tradition on my mom's side. My younger brother's name is the same, except it's from both of our grandfathers. Alan-Johannes. We usually call him Alan."

"Have you always been VR?"  
I shrug. "I let my friends call me that because it's a lot easier. Some people call me Vera and my dad calls me Ria. Not my mom. Full name for her."  
Ethan cackles. "That's a lot of letters for her to build up on."

I groan. "Don't mention it."

_Beep._ It's another sponsor gift. Actually, it looks like multiple gifts at once. Ethan jumps to his feet, trying to catch the parcels as they float down. "Holy shit, guys! There's so much stuff! There's something for you, VR...ooh, is this for me?"

Ethan hands me a stiff bronze bow and a leather quiver of eight arrows. It's not the same quality as the previous bow I had. But someone out there, even after my big screw-up yesterday, thinks I deserve a second chance. A chance to prove myself...

Troy frowns, rolling up all the tiny parachutes. "I didn't get anything today. I thought, since we all got something yesterday..."  
Ethan giggles hysterically, holding up a bag of tomatoes. "Hey, it's all chill. We can share."

"Is there a note?" I ask, slipping the quiver over my shoulder. It's not as comfortable as my last one.  
"Nope. I don't see one. Not here, not here...oh wait. here it is."

Ethan hands me the paper scrap, then bursts into laughter. "It came with all these stupid devil masks! Look, there's one for each of us! See Troy, people did send you stuff!"  
"Oh my God." Ethan's right. Those devil masks are absolutely stupid. I cackle to myself as I unfold the note. It appear to be from Troy's mentor, Roman, who won the Games before Cheyenne if memory serves.

_Someone wanted to send everybody one of these and Cheyenne insisted I send it. No clue why, didn't care to ask. Also, stop hanging out with the outliers and just kill them both already. Your district partner would have with no shame. Why the hell would you run away from her!?_

_-Roman_

I look over at Troy. Ethan is currently helping him put on his mask. Right, I shouldn't forget he's from District 2, where they train their kids for stuff like this. But that's not Troy, right? He seems too...too...too down to try something like that. He's the complete opposite of Ethan, who never stops joking around. It doesn't appear as either of them want to hurt me.

But they could...

"VR! Get your mask on!" Ethan shoves it onto my face. "Even Troy's wearing his and he's always so grumpy!"  
Troy folds his arms. "I am not!"  
"You kinda are," I giggle. "Come on Troy, this is fun, right?"

"Well...I guess it is. A little. But why masks?"  
"Because everyone got one, according to the note. Troy, Cindra and her allies are probably wearing masks too!"

The edges of Troy's lips curl up ever so faintly. It's not a smile but for him, it's good enough. "I wish I could be there to see it."

Despite the fact that I can barely see out of them, the masks are fun. For a brief moment, I can forget everything. All my worries and fears are gone, just for a little while. In another world, a world without the Hunger Games, maybe Troy, Ethan and I could actually be friends?

I can't forget the truth. The fact that they are both very capable of taking me out. I can't get attached. I can't let them close. I can't give them all my trust. I simply can't. Not after what happened with Opal. Too many people are out to get me. I don't think I can ever trust anybody here ever again.

_For now,_ I think to myself, banishing all those negative thoughts because I don't want to think of them anymore. I'll trust them for now. For today.

* * *

_Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_The Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_Three Bs:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Awkward Trio:_ Troy, Ethan, VR

_Lone Wolf Opal:_ Opal

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 4 (Bartleby, Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

* * *

**Yes, there are no deaths this chapter! Pretty rare now, isn't it?**

**Devil masks extravaganza! Sponsor gifts extravaganza! Yes, someone sent the request in and it was just such a funny idea, I could not resist. Not the same as a cool hat extravaganza but still very, very, very fun! At least the awkward trio thinks so.**

**See you all next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	23. Day 5: Burning Down The House

**Day 5:**

* * *

_Hold tight_

_Wait till the party's over_

_Hold tight_

_We're in for nasty weather_

_There has got to be a way_

_Burning down the house_

* * *

"Do you smell something burning?" Troy asks the next morning as we split the last of the bread for breakfast.  
"Everything in this arena is burning." The soft bread sticks to the roof of my mouth. I chase it down with a tiny sip of water.

"Yep!" Ethan wipes his lips with his sleeves. "Hell, I don't think I can smell anything else anymore. My smeller is broken."  
"You mean your nose?"  
"Yes..."

Troy doesn't respond; I think he might be a little tired of Ethan's antics. I personally don't mind. It's not like Ethan is being annoying on purpose. Or maybe he is. I feel a little torn, because I want to laugh along with Ethan, but can't help but stay gloomy with Troy.

"Does the devil mask help? " I fiddle with mine a little, brushing some dirt off it.  
"Hey, I said I can't smell, not see."  
"Well, with the mask, you certainly can't see."

Troy's voice trails off when he hears that faint little beep. By now, we all know what it means. Only a few small gifts float down this time. A longsword and a first aid kit for Troy, and a bottle of water for me. Perfect; we were starting to run low of water anyways. And who says no to an extra weapon? Or medicine?

Troy gives the sword a few swings. "I hope I don't have to use this."  
"Why?" Ethan bites into a tomato, spraying juice everywhere. "Swords are fucking badass."  
"You get what I mean."

I start packing everything up. "Look, if you don't want to use the sword, we've got other stuff. Like a machete, or a knife..."  
"No, no!" Troy shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm more of a healer though."

I glance down at the bandages stuck to my clothes, coated with bits of dried blood. Troy just stares at me for a bit, not saying anything. Finally, he asks, "How do you feel?"  
"Um...I feel normal, I guess."  
"You're not dizzy, right?"  
"No."

"Does that mean I'm actually good at patch jobs?" Ethan giggles. "Doctor Ethan Keddy is in the house!"  
"We should probably change the bandages later," Troy muses. "They're what, a day old?"  
"Two days," I mutter. Yeah, I don't feel proud of that either.

Troy grimaces. "We better change them soon then. Good thing we have plenty."

It's an unspoken agreement between the three of us that it might be best to go camp somewhere else. As we get ready to leave, there's a low rumbling sound as a nearby rock formation comes crashing down. Some of the boulders spill into a pool of lava. I shudder, only to think of what might've happened if they landed on us.

"We need to get moving," I declare. Nobody disagrees.

The scenery is much different from before, so at least we're going somewhere new. If anything, it seems empty, as if the Gamemakers didn't bother to leave anything here. Are we even supposed to be here? This just can't be a sign of laziness, right? There's got to be a catch.

Perhaps I'm just being paranoid. Again.

Troy taps me on the shoulder. "Do you hear that?"  
"Huh?" I see Ethan cocking his head to the side. "No, I don't."  
"You need to be more quiet. It's very faint."

Ethan stops talking and I pick up on a very low humming sound. If I didn't know I was supposed to be listening for something, I would never have noticed at all. "Yeah, I hear it too."  
"Well, what is it?" Ethan pouts.  
"I don't know."

Troy seems nervous and honestly, I am too. I knew there was a catch! "But...let's not get too ahead of ourselves, right? If we notice anything different, we'll leave."  
"This is different," Troy grumbles, but he follows us onward.

With how scarce scenery is, the large wall of rocks is pretty hard to miss. But why a wall? Did somebody build it? I have my doubts. I can't think of anybody stupid enough to go out here, other than me, of course. Then the Gamemakers must've put it here...

"Well, looks like the end of the road for us." Ethan whistles as he sticks his hands in his pockets. "Time to turn around."  
I'm not ready to turn around yet. "We could probably cross it."  
"Yeah, but why would we?"

"I think what Ethan's trying to say is that this might be the boundaries of the arena," Troy says in a monotone voice. "We're not allowed any further."  
Oh right. Boundaries. This place can't go on forever. "I guess that makes a lot of sense."

Troy heaves his sword onto his shoulder. "Well, let's go. We should've changed route a while ago."  
"Wait. Do you guys see that?"

I shake my head and Ethan rolls his eyes. "Oh please. Don't fuck with me, VR, I know you can see it! That little squiggly thing. Right there! Wait, it just disappeared...no, it's back! See?"  
"Squiggly...thing?"

"Okay, look." Ethan begins to point vaguely. "There's a gap in the rocks. Right aboutttttt...there! And if you look, the squiggly comes back. It's like a light blue, maybe white! There it is!"  
"I don't get it," Troy huffs. "I don't see anything."  
"Ughhhhhh. Lemme show you!"

Ethan crawls through the gap in the rock wall, conveniently big enough to fit a person. He begins to point again, but where? I don't see it. All I see is rocks, and there's plenty so I can't imagine Ethan would care too much about them. But then he's reaching for something, and his palm presses down, as if there's a wall in front of him we can't see. He freezes up, reaches forward...

Then the wall bursts to life to reveal a large hexagonal forcefield that throws Ethan backwards.

It's enough to send several stacks of rocks crashing down, one that covers Ethan entirely as he slams into it. I'm also thrown back as well, nearly tripping my own feet. But when the dust settles, the forcefield is gone. All the remains is scattered rocks, and a familiar piece of black fabric sticking out from underneath.

"ETHAN!"

I throw everything I'm carrying to the ground. Troy follows close behind, absolutely shocked. I start pulling off boulders and throwing them to the side, but some of them are too heavy. I just snap my fingers at Troy. "Don't just stand there! Help me! Help!"

Once the boulders are cleared away, I can see Ethan's mangled body lying underneath. He's all bruised and his arms and legs are all lying at weird angles. His eyes flutter open and closed, before he lets a small amount of blood dribbling out from his lips.

"Oh shit," is all I can say. "Oh shit."  
Ethan laughs to himself; I can see how loosely his front teeth hang. "Shit...good shit or bad shit?"

"Oh no, no, no, no. Bad." I fumble with my backpack straps. Why won't this stupid thing open? "It's bad...it's bad..."  
"Bad shit..." Ethan begins to cough violently then flips his head sharply to the side, before wincing in pain.

Tears flood my eyes. The bandages; where are they!? I can't find them!

"Did...I make...sad?"  
"I...Ethan, wait..."

Ethan coughs one last time, sending more blood everywhere. His eyes have become unfocused and his body relaxes over so slightly...no! No, this cannot be happening!  
Somebody grabs my arms. "VR, come on! let's get out of here!"  
"No! I'm not leaving! He's not dead!"

The cannon finally fires as Troy reaches for my shoulders, forcing me to look straight at him. "He is now."  
"But...but..."  
"We're not staying here any longer. Let's go."

I pick up the bow and the quiver I threw to the ground, wiping my eyes with my jacket sleeve. Troy's the one leading the way this time. I don't have the energy to argue to say anything. I can't believe what just happened...

Someone needed me. They were at death's door and they were counting on me to save them.

But I couldn't.

Troy stops walking for a moment to let me catch up. He wraps his free arm around me. "Hey...look, it's..."  
"No. It's not."  
"You didn't even know what I was going to say."

"You were gonna tell me that I'm fine and that it's gonna be alright," I hiss, wiping away more tears. "But it's not. It's never gonna be alright again."

* * *

**11th place: Ethan Keddy, District 6. Crushed by falling rocks.**

**Yes, this death really hurt to write. I knew Ethan was always gonna be very popular because he was such a free spirit. He was very upbeat, comical, and laidback, with similar traits to another fan favourite, Jane. I loved writing him and VR because they had such different personalities and outlooks on life, which made for a fun contrast, and he brought some more lightheartedness to an otherwise very gray and gloomy story. Rest in peace, bud**.

* * *

_Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_The Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_Three Bs:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Awkward Duo:_ Troy, VR

_Lone Wolf Opal:_ Opal

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 4 (Bartleby, Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

Other Causes: 1 (Ethan)

* * *

**And another one bites the dust! Did the death in this chapter surprise you? How do you think it will impact VR and Troy's alliance?**

**And now, we're officially down to the Final 10 tributes! And it only took five days! Times really flies doesn't it? See you all in the next chapter!**

**-Vr**


	24. Night 5: Comfortably Numb

**Night 5:**

* * *

_Now I've got that feeling once again_

_I can't explain_

_You would not understand_

_This is not how I am_

_I have become_

_Comfortably numb_

* * *

I can't sleep.

Troy and I haven't really spoken to each other much, except for when he asked me if I could let him change the bandages. He thinks the wound has stopped bleeding out, but it will be a while before it can start to heal. I barely notice the pain anymore. I've just been so numb. And plagued by a different pain.

I lean up against a large boulder, staring at the dark sky. Ethan's face has already shown up and left, taunting me. I could've done something, but I didn't. I'm such a wimp.

Troy's fiddling with one of Ethan's sponsor gift, this weird remote that has nothing but a big red button on it. We haven't pressed it yet, because we don't know what it might do. Maybe it doesn't do anything unless Ethan activates it. But he's not here, is he?

My eyes sting. I've been rubbing at them so much to chase the tears away. I can't bring it in me to cry anymore. Or do anything. All I want to do is sleep, but I can't. I'm afraid. I don't want to know what happens when I close my eyes.

I flop backwards, feeling something slightly hard under my head. I'm lying up against Troy's shoulder. He doesn't react, just places the remote thingy on the ground next to him and sighs. "So...do you wanna talk about it now?"  
"Are you my therapist?"  
"I'd make a really shitty therapist."

I stretch out my legs. "You're probably way better than me."  
"I think you're sad."  
"No shit."

"Is it because of Ethan?"  
"I don't know."  
"You want to try and help...but at that point he was too far gone..."

I blink back tears as Troy continues, picking the dirt from his nails. He's always so careful not to actually touch the ground. "That's life. Yeah...it's nice to try and help someone...but...not everyone can be saved...that's why being in medical sucks sometimes...not like I do anything but stitch wounds..."

"That doesn't help."  
"It's the truth."  
"Thanks, Troy."

Troy eventually turns over; I can hear his heavy breathing as he tries to find a comfortable position to sleep in, lying more or less on top of the bags. I just keep staring up at the sky. I miss being able to see the stars. I miss looking out of a window and watching the clouds drift by. It's funny, all these everyday tasks that I might not ever get to do again. They're the things I miss the most.

I do miss my family though. And my friends...well, some of my friends. I know I did leave them on a sour note. It just makes me want to cry thinking about it. All the things I could've said and done, had I know what was going to happen at the Reaping.

God, I hope the cameras aren't watching me right now. Me, who can't feel anything but the urge to cry. Why can't I exhaust my tears like how I've exhausted the rest of my body?

"Are you crying?"  
"No."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Shut up."

Troy stifles a yawn, sitting up. "Yes you are."  
"No. I'm not."  
"Can I do anything to help?"

I shake my head. There isn't anything anyone can do. "It's about me. I just...I should be dead. Maybe if Ethan found me just a little bit later, I would've bled out and died. He...he saved me! And what did I do for him after? I let him die! I just sat there, too shocked to do jack shit and he died on me!"  
"Again, what more could be done?"

"I don't know!" I drop my head in my hands, grabbing at my grimy hair. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know..."  
"VR, come on...I...do you want some water, maybe? Are the bandages too tight?"

"It has nothing to do with you! It's me! It's my fault!"  
I let my emotions take over me, force me to become absolutely useless to a dying boy. I wish I could just turn them off, like a tap.

_Beep._

A sliver parachute delicately floats down in front of me. I just ignore it while Troy grabs it. "It's for you."  
"What is it?"  
"An umbrella."

Great. That's the last thing I need right now. An umbrella to keep Troy dry from all the fucking tears I'm crying out. So much salt has been rubbed into the wound that it causes my eye to sting and my stomach to explode with cramps. I double over in pain while Troy reads the note attached to the umbrella.

This is no plain old boring umbrella. This is a brand new FireTin Umbrella 2000! It's an umbrella strong enough to deflect falling rocks and resistant to any kind of flames. Plus, it also keeps you dry in the storm! Rain not included.

Troy tucks the note into his pocket. "While, I was not expecting that."  
"The sponsors have been sending me all sorts of weird shit. Well, not weird. Some of it's actually pretty useful."  
"I'd say this umbrella is pretty useful.

Troy closes the umbrella and hands it to me. "You should get some rest now."  
"I'm not tired."  
"You're not tired or you can't sleep?"  
"Both."

I tuck my arm under my head. "I just...I feel so..."  
"So do I."  
"But you did nothing wrong."

"Well, I'm going to sleep." Troy leans over a second time. "And I think you'll feel better about this tomorrow. Doctor's orders."

Well, if it's an order, then I guess there's not fighting that. I just close my eyes, unsure of how long it will take for sleep to finally come.

* * *

_Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_The Beans:_ Sitka, Maryann

_Three Bs:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Awkward Duo:_ Troy, VR

_Lone Wolf Opal:_ Opal

* * *

Kills:

Cindra: 4 (Bartleby, Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Magaz: 1 (Karen)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

Other Causes: 1 (Ethan)

* * *

**It's another deathless chapter. But VR's having a emotional breakdown in the middle of the night, which isn't exactly good news either.**

**Don't worry, I have things planned. We're gonna have some real fun action soon! :3**

**-Vr**


	25. Day 6: Won't Get Fooled Again

**Day 6:**

* * *

_I'll tip my hat to the new constitution_

_Take a bow for the new revolution_

_Smile and grin at the change all around_

_Pick up my guitar and play_

_Just like yesterday_

_Then I'll get on my knees and pray_

_We don't get fooled again_

* * *

I chase down another medicine pill, then shake the vial. There's only about half of them left. Whoops.

"How do you feel?" Troy asks in that sad, somber voice of his.  
"I don't know." It's really hard to process how I feel about anything lately. I've constantly had to push my feelings aside to survive. At least I've had a bit of sleep to think. But I still can't shake off how disappointed I really feel in myself.

"What should we do now?"  
"I don't know." That seems to be my only answer nowadays. "But I guess we have to go look for tributes? Or something?"

Troy sighs. "I don't want to."  
"You just don't want to face your district partner."  
"Do you want face yours?"

Again, I don't know. It's been so long since I thought about Whyllis and the way they changed, just like that. Do we still have that pact between us? Maybe to them, I'm just another target. Another tribute to kill. District loyalty doesn't matter anymore.

We're starting to run out of food.

"Do we need to change your bandages again?" Troy asks me. "Or do you think you'll be fine."  
"Um, I think I'm alright for now. We shouldn't waste them."

_Beep._

"Holy shit," I mutter under my breath, watching the parachutes fall, yet again. More sponsors! I hope it's food.

Troy catches the gifts before they fall to the ground; yeah I know, he's so much taller than me. Before he can even open them up, I catch a really savory smell. Ugh, it's so good. Maybe my prayers have been answered after all? Troy hands me the smaller one. I tear it open to reveal a grilled cheese sandwich.

_Have a treat, hun! You deserve it!_

_-Rhiannon_

"What is that?" Troy asks. He's opened his gift up to reveal and bucket of...actually, I have no clue what those are. I do recognize the salad though.  
"It's grilled cheese. It's really good."  
"It looks...sickening..."

I break the sandwich in half. "You're just saying that because you don't know what it is. Try it."

I can't say I've ever eaten grilled cheese for breakfast, up until now. It's so buttery, warm, and melty, and just like the ones I used to make myself at home. Finally, something good has happened in this arena. Especially after all the shit the past few days have thrown at me.

Troy rubs his greasy fingers together. "That was not what I was expecting. So many you should you try some of my food instead."  
"What is it?"  
"You've never had shrimp tempura before."

"We don't get a lot of seafood in 10." I pick off one of the shrimps from the top of the bucket. It's really crunchy, and thankfully, not as messy as grilled cheese. If this is what seafood tastes like, then I wouldn't mind being sponsored it again.

Troy and I divide up the rest of the bucket between us. before we can dig in, he shoves one of the salad bowls in my hands. "Vegetables are good for you."  
"Yes captain." I think the last time I had fresh vegetables to eat was dinner before my interview. Which was almost a week ago. That's not very healthy, but then again, I've been eating half a meat pack a day to keep me going. Anything fresh probably would've spoiled by now.

God, I can't remember the last time I've felt so full. I pour some of the water over my hands and Troy's, at his insistence. The silent agreement between the two of us is that we're good for food. We've had enough to keep us awake and moving today.

"What did your note say?"  
"What note?" Troy asks almost immediately.  
"Your gift didn't come with a note?"

Troy fishes the note from his pocket. "I already read it."  
"Was it from your mentor?"  
"Does it matter?"

I shrug. I don't have the right to pry into any personal conversations between Troy and Roman. And now I have to tell him that I already read one of his notes. But what if that does give Troy the idea to kill me right on the spot? Or he might choose to break off the alliance. Maybe that's a good thing, but I don't know if I want that. It's only been a few days, but I have grown a bit attached. And I'm not proud of that at all.

Stupid feelings!

"Mine came from my escort this time."  
"Mine was from my mentor. He was just saying that he knows I like shrimp tempura."

There has to be more, but if Troy won't tell me anything, fine. I sling my bow and quiver onto my shoulders. Troy grabs his sword. He also has one of the knives and insists on keeping the bandage rolls in his pockets rather than packed away, should we need them. Fine by me. I just feel safer knowing each of us has a weapon at ready just in case.

Just in case.

I give Troy a nudge. "You lead the way."  
"Why me?"  
"If we run into tributes, I don't want you to blame me for leading us to them."

Troy lets out a soft laugh. I follow him as we traverse the rocks and lava pools. At this point, we've really gotten used to the constant heat. I hardly notice how sweaty I am anymore, because my clothes are covered in it. At this point, the jackets are buried at the bottom of my bag. I hate how visible the sweat stains in my clothes, thanks to the bright orange. But then, Troy's light red isn't much better either.

Fine, we're both complete hot messes. At least we can be dirty together.

"Troy, did you hear that?"  
"Hear what?"  
"Listen."

Troy just gives me a confused look, since they last time someone asked him to listen to a noise he couldn't hear, our ally died right in front of us. But then I see him glance up nervously. "It sounds like...somebody might be..."  
"Don't mind that. What should we do? Run?"

"Perhaps we can help them?"

Troy peeks around a large boulder where we can see two girls nervously whispering to each other as a third one beings to pant heavily in front of them. It's Opal. She's doing that dirty trick again, where she's pretending to be harmless in order to gain their trust. Troy moves forward, but I grab him and pull him backwards.

My bow. She's got my bow. That she stole from me.

"VR, she's clearly injured! We can help her."  
"No! Stay down!"

I load an arrow into my bow. I will not lower my guard this time.

"Sitka, it's okay," one of the girls whispers. I think she might be from 12. But I can't remember her name. "I don't mind."  
Sitka, the other girl, wags a finger in Opal's face. "It's all very convenient. Too convenient. How do we know we can trust you?"  
_You can't,_ I think to myself.

Opal slowly crawls to her feet. "I'm very clearly injured. I'd never be a threat to you."  
"There's nothing wrong with another ally..."  
"No, Maryann. If I say she's not with us, she's not with us."

"That's a shame." I can see the shining blade of Opal's damned sword. "I could really use that first-aid kit you've got there."

Opal lunges forward and I jump out, Troy scrambling after me. My first arrow misses and skids into some lava as Opal slashes her sword across Maryann's chest, the younger girl sinking to her knees. Sitka screams in horror as I struggle to reload my bow.

"VR!" Troy grabs my shoulder. "What are you doing?"  
Opal actually has the guts to look shocked when she turns to face me. "You!?"

"This is payback, bitch!"  
Opal manages to jump out of the way, ruining the perfect stomach shot I had set up. But the arrows grazes into her hip as she trips over Maryann's body, the jagged rock cutting into her hands and face. I fire a third arrow. This time, I aim at her forehead.

And I don't miss.

Opal begins to twitch and cough, blood oozing from the arrow in her forehead. For a second, it actually looks like she's in a lot of pain. Then her body goes still and two cannons fire in the distance.

"Why..." Troy's voice is just above a whisper. "Why did you do that..."  
I just shrug, suddenly feeling really tired. "Hold my bow for a sec?"

It feels way too good to loot Opal's corpse of the silver bow and all these arrows. I consider pulling the one from her head but...no, I don't think I can. I also feel really, really lightheaded. maybe because my adrenaline rush is wearing off, or because I might've stood up a bit too fast, or...

"There was another girl. Did you see her?"  
"Which one..."  
"Um...are you okay?"

I try to shake my head. I feel so...so...

My eyes flutter closed and I can feel myself slumping forward as Troy yells my name.

* * *

**10th place: Maryann Corrine Loorker, District 12. Stomach slit open by Opal.**

**Alas, another unfortunate bean bites the dust! Maryann was such a cutie who did get the shorter end of the stick, since she wasn't shown an awful lot outside of her alliance. But she was fun to write because I always love writing younger or more innocent tributes; they're a fresh breath of air. Thanks for sending her in, James! She was a cinnamon roll who didn't deserve this!**

**9th place: Opal Lumen, District 1. Shot in the head by VR.**

**I don't think anyone is too sad about this lmao. As a character, Opal was great because she had that whole "appear weak and then attack" move, which was so much fun to write. She really helped push the plot forward and create a lot of fun tension in the Games, though I think VR would like to argue with me on that one. And in a spectacular act of revenge, she goes out with a bang. Thanks so much for her, NamelessPanda!**

* * *

_Alliances:_

_Careers:_ Cindra, Anthony, Quincy

_Three Bs:_ Tyrone, Whyllis

_Uh...:_ Troy, VR

_Well, this sucks:_ Sitka

* * *

Kills:

Opal: 1 (Maryann)

Cindra: 4 (Bartleby, Ellie, Magaz, Leo)

Anthony: 2 (Gayle, Basil)

Quincy: 2 (Flynn, Teff)

Karen: 1 (Abril)

Tyrone: 1 (Delta)

Whyllis: 2 (Damask, Jane)

VR: 1 (Opal)

Other Causes: 1 (Ethan)

* * *

**We're now down to Final 8! And with only four districts remaining! Do any of the remaining tributes surprise you? Who are you rooting for the most?**

**Also, I'd like to announce that I'm now cutting off sponsor gifts since there's only a third of the tributes remaining. This chapter is your last chance to sponsor any of the tributes left before I close sponsoring down and they're all left on their own. So choose wisely!**

**Hang onto your seats! We're getting closer to the end!**

**-Vr**


	26. Day 7: Seven Nation Army

**Day 7:**

* * *

_I'm gonna fight 'em all_

_A seven nation army couldn't hold me back_

_They're gonna rip it off_

_Taking their time right behind my back_

_And I'm talking to myself at night because I can't forget_

_Back and forth through my mind behind a cigarette_

_And the message coming from my eyes says leave it alone_

* * *

"How long have I been asleep?"  
"About half a day," Troy mutters in a groggy voice. "I don't think it's the next day yet."  
"Sorry for waking you up."

"It's fine, it's whatever." Troy yawns. "So what happened?"  
"I don't know."  
"You just passed out!"

I look at my dirty hands. They're covered in sweat, ash, rocks and...blood. _Blood_. Why is there blood? Who's blood is this? Oh my God. Did I do this? I...no, no, no, no, no! No! I...all that talk of me being better than...And just like that, I've stooped down to their level.

"I'm a horrible person."  
"What makes you say that?"

"I killed someone!" I shove my hands into Troy's face, nearly grabbing at his cheeks. "Look at me! Look what I did!"  
"I don't...I don't see..."  
He sees nothing. Maybe I'm wrong. Yes, that's it, I'm wrong. Perhaps this is all a bad dream. I'm still asleep. If I wake up, it will all pass over...

Oh, who am I kidding. I'm no better than Opal, or Cindra, or everyone else in here. Troy gives me a look of pity as I wrap my arms around my legs. I don't deserve it. He's the real good guy here, not me. The one who wants to help, not to harm.

I killed someone and I actually felt justified when I did it. That's the worst part of all.

I ignore the beeping in the distance. Troy leaves for a few minutes, then returns with some sponsor gifts. "Mind if I open these?"  
"Sure. Do whatever."

The first gift is a small sandwich cookie that has a light brown spread inside. Troy leaves it next to me, so I can eat it when I get hungry. The next is a giant metal shield, so heavy even Troy has a bit of trouble lifting it. The scene is a bit comical, but I don't have it in me to laugh right now.

"VR, it's okay. You need to kind of situation we're in...I mean, yeah, maybe it's not okay...um..."  
"Troy."  
"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could just...be quiet for a little bit. I'm not in a good mood right now."  
Troy just nods and we lean up against it each other. He says nothing, but I can still hear him trying to clean the shield of who knows what. I don't see the blood on my hands anymore, or maybe there was never any blood to begin with. Great. Now I'm going crazy.

"Do you think I could change your bandages?"  
"Knock yourself out."

Thanks to the heat, the bandages are clinging to my stomach and it doesn't feel nice at all. Troy pulls them off and I bite into the cookie to keep myself from screaming in pain, just in case. It's actually pretty good, with this stuff that tastes a bit like caramel, but probably isn't. I don't know.

"Was there a note?"  
Troy hands me the paper scrap. I can tell from the way he blushes that he's already read it. Not like that even matters anyways. Unless Cheyenne is telling me to kill him in my sleep. It's pretty small, so clearly Cheyenne doesn't have a lot to say.

_It doesn't get any better from here._

I don't even have to ask to know what it means. Truth is, you don't win the Games by staying out of danger. You don't win by being a good person. Killing is part of the game and that's what makes it so terrifying to tributes. Knowing that if you aren't able to kill someone else first, they will hurt you.

Maybe that's why some of the tributes are the way they are. After all, murder is wrong, isn't it? And I don't want to die. None of us do. But now we're being told to make a choice between murder or death. Which one are we going to choose? Are we going to let someone take us down, or fight back for a chance to live another day?

And there's still eight of us left. No way I can escape through unharmed. I'll have to get my hands dirty again...get them bloody...

"ATTENTION TRIBUTES!"

"What's going on?" Troy blurts out, looking around for the speakers, or wherever the announcement came from. My stomach does it thing where it writhes in pain. Something is happening...I just know it. And I don't like it.

"CONGRATULATIONS TO MAKING IT TO THE FINAL EIGHT! AS A REWARD FOR YOUR EFFORTS, WE INVITE YOU ALL TO A FEAST! IN A FEW SHORT MOMENTS, YOU WILL BE SHOWN THE WAY. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY. IF YOU DO NOT SHOW UP TO THE FEASTING GROUNDS WITHIN ONE HOUR, A STRICT PUNISHMENT WILL BE APPLIED. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOUR."

"Help me up." Suddenly, I feel a sudden urge to get out of here. "We need to go."  
"What if we don't make it in time?"  
"That's why we're leaving now."

We quickly cram everything into our bags, no time for neat packing. I grab my bow and stuff all the arrows into the quiver, which is starting to overflow. Troy straps the shield onto his arm, since it's too heavy for me anyways. But I think he deserves it. Troy's a good kid. He should get the chance to protect himself.

A holographic trail of light blue lines appears and floats in the air, showing us where we want to go. I glance briefly at Troy. "Hey, if I don't make it out of there alive, I want you to win."  
"Same goes. I hope you'll do the same for me."

And we walk towards the Feast without saying a word.

It probably won't take us an hour to get there. At least I hope not. But we are doing pretty well. My legs ache, but that doesn't matter. I've been through worse. I can handle some sore legs for a little while. I do hope the other tributes will have gone through than just sore legs.

Troy lingers a bit behind, thanks to the shield. Damn, I haven't even known him for a full week but...we've just been through a lot together. It it came down to me against him, I'm not sure I can do any of it. Would I have the guts to kill him? Would I let him kill me? Or would I-

I push that thought away. I don't want to think about it.

"Troy. I see it now."  
"You do?" Troy stutters a little.

The Feast isn't really much of a feast. It's just a long silver table surrounded by a circle of large rocks. I crouch low behind one of the rocks and I can feel Troy's hot breath in my ear as he grab onto my shoulder. The table is covered with all sorts of food. A lot of it is all wrapped up, so I can't really tell what's inside. But does it matter?

Yes, actually. It does. If it's all dried goods like those tasteless meat packs we've been eating, then clearly the Game might drag on a little longer. If it's all fresh perishables, then the Gamemakers want us to end this thing soon. I'm not sure what option I prefer. I do want out of this hell, but I don't want to face the ugly truth.  
I know I should. I will need to eventually. I just don't want to.

"We should move quickly," Troy whispers. "In and out before anyone spots us."  
"Hold on a second."

Sitka creeps into view, staying as low as she can. I see a small gold pendant hanging off her neck and I can't help but feel bad for her. She's clearly not been doing well ever since I saw her yesterday, the poor girl. The pendant cracks open and she glances down at it sadly before resuming onward.

Once she hits the table, she begins grabbing as much as she can, constantly looking over her shoulder. She probably knows that she's not alone. But I'm not going to shoot her. I'll let her go. Is this the right move? I don't know. But it's the move I'll make.

Troy begins to stand up. "Maybe we can help her?"  
I see a boot sticking out from behind another rock as Sitka prepares to leave. The boot disappears as I grab Troy and pull him back down. "Troy, don't!"

Quincy and Anthony both come barreling into Sitka, who freezes up as soon as she spots them. Anthony straight up tackles her to the ground while Quincy unsheathes a thin dagger. I know exactly where this is going. I spring up from my hiding spot and grab Troy's hand.

"NOW!"

We both run into the carnage to the opposite end of the table. Anthony shoves his spear into Sitka's head while Quincy pounces on top of her with the dagger and I don't bother looking to see what happens next. Someone screams. I look up, and Tyrone is pointing his blow gun at me. I duck down behind Troy, who blocks the darts with his shield.

Someone grabs my quiver. It's Quincy. I catch a glimpse of Sitka's bloody body lying behind me as Quincy drags me back, holding their dagger up to my throat. I lob a huge wad of spit into their face and start swinging my legs wildly. I hear them grunt in pain as I kick them in the knee. Their grip loosens, nails digging into my face, and my quiver starts to slip down my arm. I grab an arrow free and swing it around, stabbing them with it in the shin.

Quincy drops the dagger and that's all I need to shake them off me and burst free as they grab their shin. There's no blood; I wasn't stabbing hard enough to produce any. I just wanted them to let me go. And I don't spare them a second look, running towards Troy who's currently in a standoff with Tyrone. He needs me, I have to help him.

"Move!" Someone shoves me to the side and I nearly slam my head against the table on the way down.

_Whyllis._

Quincy reaches for their dagger, but they'll be too late no matter what. Whyllis plunges the spear into their exposed side and yanks it out with no effort. I crawl under the table, towards Troy and Tyrone's feet. A third set of feet appears behind Tyrone and it makes me freeze in my tracks.

Anthony hefts his bloody spear, Cindra close behind. She just narrows her eyes. Tyrone fires a dart, which lands in the top of Anthony's chest. He snarls, but Tyrone clocks him in the head with the blowgun. Cindra jumps backward as Anthony collapses and Tyrone picks up his discarded spear. I hurry out front under the table and run, Troy follows behind me.

"Cindra!" Troy screams. I freeze and turn around. Troy raises the shield to block Cindra's sword as he tries to stab her underneath. I load my bow and fire. The arrow whizzes past Cindra completely, but she turns to avoid it, just in time to see Tyrone come running towards her.

Whyllis points their spear at me and Troy. Around us, three bodies litter the ground. I don't know what's happened to them. All I know is that they're all dead.

For just a single moment, I catch a look of pure fear in Whyllis's eyes, before it fades as it soon as it showed and they growl at me. I point my next arrow at them. I don't know what's happened to our truce; maybe it doesn't exist anymore. But at this point, anyone who isn't Troy is an enemy.

I made that truce with Whyllis, a long time ago. And this is not Whyllis. This is not the Whyllis I know.

"Whyllis?"  
"What the hell do you want!?"  
"Nothing! But I thought-"

"VR...VR! Help!"  
"Troy!"

Cindra's entire hand and sword is covered with blood; Tyrone twitches at her feet. I fire at her and the arrows grazes her ear as she charges at us. Troy holds up the shield to stop her. It's not going to work. It won't protect him. We have Whyllis on one side and Cindra on the other. We can't win.

"Watch your head!" I yell at Troy, pulling him out of the way. Cindra shoves her sword into his thigh, then pulls at the blade as hard as she can, running it down his leg. Troy hits the ground, hard.

No!

I want to reach out for him and bring him to safety, to grab Cindra and yank her away, do something! Suddenly, I feel a large metal pole against my neck and Whyllis tosses me to the side. The rocks cut into my skin. my face feels like it is on fire.

"You don't want me to try and kill you!? Then don't be stupid and get yourself killed! Get out of here!"  
"What!?"  
"I said get out of here! Fuck off! Scram!"

I haul myself to my feet and run. Run as far away as I can. I hear a faint scream. I don't know who it was. But I'm running. I'm running like it's the first day of the Games and everyone morphed into a monster before my very eyes. Compared to now, that was nothing.

This was worse.

A cannon fires out and I stop to catch my breath and count them. One, Sitka. Two and Three, Quincy and Anthony. Four, Tyrone. Five, Troy. Six...  
Six cannons. One for either Cindra or Whyllis. One of them bested the other. But I don't know. I don't know.

Oh God. Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, shit shit! There's only two tributes left. And I'm one of them. Oh fuck! Fuck! Fucking fuck fuck!

The Games will be over soon. And I never thought I'd be around to witness it.

There's a loud crack echoing across the arena; it reminds me of thunder. I just shake my head and look up to the sky. "Gamemakers, please. Please let me have today. Let me have today to mourn Troy and get my shit together for tomorrow. Tomorrow, it will be all over. I promise you. I promise. But not today, please. I still have unfinished business to do."

The sky is silent, before the sky briefly flashes pink with another clap of thunder. That must be the Gamemakers's way of letting me know my wish is granted. The pink sky turns into tiny glowing specks that slowly being to form the number one. One more day until this is all over.

"Thank you," I whisper quietly. "Thank you so much."

I settle into an alcove for the night, watching the arena dim. It's item for the faces in the sky. Troy's face is the first to appear and I blink back tears. Because now, I know who my final opponent is.

"I'm sorry, Troy. I'm so sorry. I wish I could've done more to save you."

Troy lingers for a bit, before he's replaced with the face of Anthony instead. Then Quincy, Tyrone, Sitka and...Whyllis. I knew it. I knew they were gone. They scowl over me one last time and they too are gone. Another tribute I've let down. Another tribute I failed to save.

"Goodbye." My voice is hoarse and raspy. "Goodbye, guys. Thanks for everything."

It's only been what, a week? And during that week I've let so many people die because of my own actions. Jane, Flynn, Gayle, Bartleby, Ethan, Maryann, Opal, Sitka, Troy, Whyllis. All because what, I was to afraid to face my opponents on my own? I didn't know how to act in a time of crisis? I was naive and blind, giving people the trust they needed to hurt me? I should be dead, but I was saved over and over. And every time I was allowed to live, there was someone else to die in my place.

It hurts. It's depressing and embarrassing and...actually...pretty damn funny?

I giggle. That turns into full blown laughter to the point where I'm holding my sides and wiping tears from my eyes. Who know I'd make it to this point simply by being a coward? Who would ever think that was the way to go? I made it to the end and how? I was selfish, stupid, fearful, and running on emotion, not some strategy. I had no strategy. It was all luck. Pure, dumb luck.

"Hey!" I shout between fits of laughter. "Guess what? Anyone in Panem write books? Or tell stories? Write me a book about this! A 15 year-old girl from 10 goes into the Hunger Games and wins by being a sheer...fucking..._coward_! She's the worst person ever! Because that's all I am!"

There's no response. Hell, I'm surprised Cindra didn't even hear that. If she did, then I really do deserve it at this point.

All I have is tomorrow. Tomorrow, I'll either live or die. It's a hard thing to take in and in my current state of clearly-not-mentally-healthy-but-I'm-not-entirely-sure-if-I'm-going-insane-yet, I don't know how to feel at all. That's a common feeling now, isn't it? I don't know. I never know.

It's scary. It's scarier than I'll ever let on. I don't want to die, period. I'm too emotionally exhausted to process it all. But at the same time, I feel sorta...calm? Tranquil. Like I'm with at peace with it. I knew what the odds were and really, I have no business being here, alive. Perhaps, I deserve to die after everything I've done. Cindra is no saint, but neither am I.

I just hope it will be quick.

* * *

**8th place: Sitka Rowan, District 8. Stabbed in the head and stomach by Quincy and Anthony.**

**Sitka was not your average cute little kid. She was actually fairly intelligent and clever. Unfortunately, these skills did not translate themselves well to her alliance, where she came off as bossy. She went through quite a bit in the arena and lost all her allies, but still managed to stand up and survive, up until the Careers got her. Thanks for her, Pi!**

**7th place: Quincy Burnett, District 4. Speared through the side by Whyllis.**

**6th place: Anthony Morrison, District 4. Speared and bludgeoned to death by Tyrone.**

**Writing these two eulogies together because why not. But I find that Q&A helped relieve a lot of the seriousness and tension surrounding the Career pack, with the way they had eyes for nobody but each other. They were super deadly too, a great team, and probably one of the few district pairs that actually worked together lmao. But as we all know, volunteerism with your lover, for a game with only one Victor, is a bad idea. Rest in peace, lovebirds.**

**5th place: Tyrone Quinifus, District 7. Stabbed in the chest by Cindra.**

**A super deadly guy along with Whyllis, but way less threatening than Whyllis. I really love it when tributes use more uncommon weapons, such as a blowgun, so writing Tyrone's arena scenes were fun because he always broke up the monotony. But up against a trained Career, I knew he had no chance. Cindra's sword could get to him before his darts could get to her and he goes down here. To his submitter, if you're reading, thanks for Tyrone!**

**4th place: Troy, Jong, District 2. Side slashed open by Cindra.**

**Aw man. Troy, Troy, Troy. My God, I loved this guy so much. He was a very unconventional Career, but this is an unconventional SYOT, so he works. I loved writing his relationship with VR, his foil to Ethan, his quiet demeanour and the way he was pretty composed while VR was next to him losing her shit. Against his ferocious district partner, this quiet healer was doomed. Thank you so much for him, Plat! Enjoy your new placement!**

**3rd place: Whyllis Shears, District 10. Stabbed in the stomach repeatedly by Cindra.**

**Whyllis was such a dynamic character who really shifted throughout the story as VR's perspective on them shifted as well. I loved exploring the drastic change from VR's unhealthy crush on them, to who they truly were, to what the arena turned them into. Their relationship with VR had its ups, downs, and middles. They were crass, explosive and deadly. All in all, one of my favourite tributes I've ever created, because of how much fun they were to write!**

* * *

**FINAL TWO: CINDRA HEATH VS VERA-RYANNA KINGSLEY.**

**We're finally down to the last two tributes! Do you think VR stands a chance against Cindra in her current state? Or the victory will be going to District 2?**

**After this hell of a chapter (longest one yet lmao), I think you all deserve a quick break. So, I'm announcing the date for the finale as APRIL 10th. This is so I have a chance to write it out and move some of my focus to my other SYOTs in the meantime. See you all on the 10th!**

**-Vr**


	27. Raise A Little Hell

**Day 8:**

* * *

_Nobody's going to help you_

_You've just got to stand up alone_

_And dig in your heels_

_And see how it feels_

_To raise a little Hell of your own_

* * *

Everyone before daylight hits the arena, I'm already awake, watching the sky light up. It seems darker than usual. After all, everyone knows the Games end today. No way it can be dragged out any longer. And after yesterday's big bloodbath, I bet everyone is counting on me to create some sort of thrilling finale. They want me to put on a show.

One would think I'd be nothing but an absolute wreck of nerves today.

And I am. But I can't let it show. I can't let Cindra know that she actually might have several advantages over me. All I have is bluffing, surprise, and luck. Good old-fashioned luck. Luck that's been plaguing me this whole time and keeping me alive.

But maybe it's more than just luck, or being in the right place at the right time. More than just a hunger for survival. I could argue we've all been lucky tributes, whether it's how far we've come or the people we've met. It's the chances that were offered, the ones I took, and the ones I didn't. It's the things I've said, the consequences of my actions, and the sponsors I've appealed to. That couldn't have all been just luck. And maybe there's no such thing as being lucky.

I didn't come to this point just because I was lucky, but because I took that luck and made it my own. And with it, I'll do whatever I damn well please.

"You can do this VR," I say to myself as I clean and polish all my arrows with Ethan's old onesie. They all fit nicely in my quiver. "Just do the best you can. Because you're not giving up. You're not just gonna kneel over and let her kill you like that. You're not going down without a fight."

I wonder what Cindra thinks of me. Actually, I don't care. Everyone know she's the ultimate powerhouse of the arena, the real predicted Victor. And it wouldn't surprise anyone if she wins. But I will not make it easy for her. I will not go out as that meek, sensitive little girl she sees. I'll fight until I die. At least then I can say I tried.

And in this living hell, I'm ready to raise a little hell of my own.

First things first, I better say something. I don't want to die with any regrets. I want to take a clear mind to the grave. I hope my district is listening to me. There's so many people left at home that I want to talk to. I blink back tears (I can't believe I'm crying yet again) as I think of what I want to say. No time left for second chances. My words and my message need to be clear.

"This is really hard to say. Mom, Dad...if I don't make it home, I'm so sorry. Just know that I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know I could be a really difficult daughter to deal with sometimes, and I'm sorry. I wish I could just make things alright. But know that again, I love you. And I'll fight as hard as I can to come back to you. You too Alan, you too. And you better have stayed out of my room! Angie, Jess, Sadie, Manny..."

This is not gonna be easy.

"I wish I had more friends like you."

That might be a total lie. Or it's the wholehearted truth. But they won't have to know. Ever.

"Rhiannon, Cheyenne, even Kanaya and the rest of my prep team, this is for you. Thanks so much for all the support you've given me, all the advice you shared, and all the cool outfits you let me wear. I know I'm our only hope for a Victor, and I promise I will do everything I can. But just know I appreciate all that you people have done for me. I will never forget it."

How much time do I have left? I don't know. Ugh, I wish I slept more last night. I was too paranoid, too worried Cindra might be there to greet me by slitting my throat open when I woke up. But she wasn't. I'm still alone. I haven't been for a while. It's scary. Much scarier than it seems. I wish Troy would say something to calm me down, or Ethan would lighten the mood with a dumb joke.

But neither of them are here. They're gone. And I'm still here.

I change my bandages one last time, tossing the old ones in the nearest lava pool to burn. Instantly, the lava creates a large geyser of fire that could've easily incinerated me if I was too close. I just watch it go up into the air, then the pool is back to is bubbly self as if nothing even happened.

I haven't seen how bad my stomach looks and I have no clue if everything has fully healed. Honestly, all I can hope right now is that it's not infected. But from what I can tell, it won't be too big of a problem. I've gotten used to the occasional pain, the horrible stomach cramps. It's that not hard to put up with, though I do down the last of the painkillers, just in case. There's nothing left but an empty vial.

I take out my machete and slid into my quiver strap over my chest, careful not to accidentally stab myself. Worst case scenario, I can always use it against Cindra. Though I'd like to keep her from getting too close to me.

At this point, I'm just stalling for time and delaying the inevitable. There's nothing left for me to do. I'll have to face her and I can't prepare myself anymore, mentally or physically. Don't even get me started on emotionally. It's a hard truth to accept. But it's been the truth all along and we all know it. Only one of us gets to walk out of here alive.

There's a lot I can say I've done. If I survive, I don't think I'll ever be the same person I was. And I can't go back to being my old self because she doesn't exist anymore. The VR that entered this arena...well...I'm not entirely sure what happened to her. But she's not me. The VR that was chosen for the Hunger Games is long gone. I don't know what happened to her either.

The VR I am now has done way too much shit, seen way too much shit, is on the verge of a mental breakdown, but is braver than I realized. She's stronger. She knows now her potential and she's willing to risk it to live. She's me.

I may be sensitive, I may be emotional, I be a fucking coward at times, but I can also be brave, and I can also be strong. I just have to remember that. I take a look at my reflection in the machete blade. My face is all sweaty and dirty with heavy black bags under my eyes. It's bruised pretty badly too, and don't get me start on my hair. I didn't even notice how cut up I am either, with small jagged lines of blood running across both cheeks, right above my left ear, above the bridge of my nose, under my lips, and down my forehead. There's the faint scars of nails that had scraped across my face. Thanks, Quincy.

"I'm brave. I'm strong. I'm Vera-Ryanna motherfucking Kingsley. And Cindra, I am coming for you."

The arena lights up again, a holographic trail leading me to the battlefield. The Games end now.

I don't have any words left, any thoughts to speak, or any feelings to convey. It's all been said and done. There's just a brutal, bloody fight left, and it's probably gonna end painfully for both sides. But one of us will pull through. I hope, secretly, that it will be me. I really don't want to die. I don't know what it feels like, or how much it will hurt.

But I have to be realistic. What are my odds?

Don't wish me luck. I'm about to make my own.

I follow the trail at a leisurely pace. There's really no need to rush and exhaust myself too soon. I can take in the last of the arena, the gravesite of 22 tributes before me. There's a lot about it I never noticed before, because it's just so...hot. I'm neutral on red and I don't care much for orange. But together, they do look pretty.

We must be heading to that weird clearing where the Feast was held. I thought I'd be going to the Cornucopia instead. After all, that's where the Games starts, so it would be a neat symbolic moment if they ended there. The Gamemakers probably have their reasons, though. Halfway to the site, I stop and slip off all my stuff. All I have is the machete, my bow, and my quiver full of arrows. I hear the sound of Ethan's wine bottle smashing and for a second, I do feel bad. It's shame nobody ever drank it.

I consider it, but no, that's probably a bad idea. I don't need to make a fool out of myself by facing Cindra drunk. And I've tried pressing the button on that remote I have, but it does nothing. Maybe it would've only worked for Ethan. No use against my final challenge, I guess.

But I can see her waiting for me. Even from here does her blood red arena uniform stick out like a sore thumb. Or maybe that's someone's actual blood. A very gory thought, but I hope it's hers. Please be her blood, please be her blood...

"Hey hun. It's nice to see you again."  
I don't decide I don't like it when Cindra calls me "hun" the way Rhiannon did. It lacks the warmth and heart. God, she doesn't tower over me the way I thought she did.

Cindra limps slightly; Whyllis's orange jacket has been torn up and wrapped around her right leg just above her knee. Her boots are gone, revealing her swollen and bruised ankles. She's got bags under her eyes too. It's kind of satisfying to know she's has as little sleep as I had. Her ear still hasn't recovered from what I did to it yesterday, revealing a trail of dried blood down the side of her face. She cracks her knuckles against the handle of her sword. They have bits of blood on them. But overall, she doesn't look too beat up. She's clearly in a better position than I am.

Still, it's hard to walk out of this place in one piece.

"I've heard a lot about you."  
"You have? I really wish my idiotic district partner wouldn't slander my name like that. But I can't do anything about it now."

"You killed him." My voice cracks slightly. I hope Cindra doesn't notice. "He didn't do anything wrong! And yet, you killed him!"  
"Yeah! So!? I'd kill anyone if I have to, just to win this thing! What difference does it make!?"

_You're fucking nuts,_ I think to myself, raising a loaded bow. "I guess it makes no difference at all. Good luck, then. May the best tribute win."  
"Thanks. But I don't need luck."  
"That's too bad. Because I don't either."

I let the arrow fly, marking the start of the end.

It hits Cindra in her left leg, at the very top of her thigh. She swings her sword, cutting part of its shaft off, and charges at me. I whip out the machete with my free hand, holding it up to block her. But at the very last second, right before she can shove her sword into me chest, I jump down to the ground. Her arm flies over me. Here's my chance. I can stab her now and hopefully-

Cindra cuts into my quiver, sending all these arrows spilling out into my back. Some of them rip through my jacket. I trip over one and fall backwards, a second arrow going right into my hand, slicing open some of my fingers. I don't bother stifling the yelp that follows, because it hurts so much. But I turn back to Cindra and weakly throw a bunch of arrows, as well as a little bit of my own blood, right into her face.

I'm not even thinking about what I'm doing at this point. Everything and anything is a weapon. Even if it is a broken bloodied arrow.

Some of the arrows hit their mark and Cindra's lip begins to bleed. She takes a small step back, rubbing at her mouth with a finger, but that gives me a chance to stand up, grab my bow and machete, and come up with a quick plan. I press the bow against my knee, doing everything I can to bend it. That won't be enough. I need to break it in half.

Cindra lunges at me and I swing the bow at her. The string snaps in her face, opening up more wounds and I cut through my bow with the machete, finally breaking it apart. I stuff one half into my pocket, then arm myself with the other. I know that I need to do next, and it's too much of a risk.

But I can't win by just playing defense. I'll only be able to stop Cindra for so long before she finally gets the better of me. So I run at her.

The piece of the bow, jagged from where I cut into it, is forced into Cindra's stomach. I quickly yank it out as small drops of blood appear on her shirt. It's not gonna be enough. But she pushes me back with the machete, which slice open the back of my hand. It's the same hand already bloody from the arrow, which increases the pain by a thousand percent. I blink back stinging tears. She can't know how much this hurts...

At least it's my right hand, not my dominant one. But now I can only hold a single weapon at once. I still try to pull free the other half of the bow. It's fine...little pain...I can deal with a little bit of pain...I just...I just have to...

My knees knock together, suddenly snapping me to attention. I hold up my weapons to defend myself as I jump backwards from Cindra as she swings at me, again. Her sword cuts through my clothes, through my bandages, and tears apart those day-old wounds Opal had given me once upon a time. There's a sudden squirt of blood.

_Aaaaaah!_

And if I thought my hand was painful, it's absolutely nothing to how I feel now. It's blinding.

_Make it stop! Make it stop!_

I can't stop myself from falling over, throwing my hands out to break my fall. My knees scrape up against the rock, but I can hardly feel it. I press my good hand to my stomach. It feels goopy, sticky, and warm. Out of the all the places, all the body parts Cindra could've cut through.

I open my eyes and all I can see is _red_.

I hear Cindra's feet scrape traverse the rock and she must be standing over me by now. I close my eyes again and try to imagine what she might think and how she'll act. Right now, she's probably raising her sword high, hoping to send it down and stab me right through the back. By then, I'll dead be and victory is hers. I reach up with my hand, if I just time this perfectly right...

I grab the end of her sword with my bad hand and give it a tug. My fingers are stained with my own blood. I don't even feel the blade of the sword, cutting open my palm. My other hand reaches for the machete. Cindra gives out a loud breath, but nothing more. She grabs my wrist. Still holding her sword, I look up and slash her across her lower abdomen with my machete. I finally let her weapon go as I push her backwards and slowly stagger to my feet. This is payback for what she's just done to me.

Somehow, we're not dead. Just staring each down as we both begin to bleed out. I clutch my stomach again as a sudden headache hits me out of nowhere.

"No." Cindra beings to pant heavily. "I...am not losing...to some...outer district scum...I have...to...win!"

I almost see sparks fly as I block her sword with my machete. She swings again and I jump back. As Cindra pulls back for another attempt, I shove my hand into her face, smearing blood all over her eyes as I run my machete into the exact same spot, trying to drag it upwards. Pain explodes in my shoulder as she stabs me, but it's almost bearable in comparison to my stomach. Nothing can compare to that.

_But why does it hurt so much..._

I ram my machete as hard as I can into Cindra's chest, then fall back, which frees her sword from my shoulder but also leaves a large cut running down my side. Ow! I feel a small trickle of blood run down my arm. Cindra begins to stagger as I kick at her legs as hard as I can. I'll gladly bring her down to my level, especially now that all my weapons are gone. A stray arrow pokes into my gut. I quickly grab it.

A hand grabs at my shirt as Cindra crawls on top of me. I bring up my knees and feel one of them press against the handle of the machete, trying to wedge it further into her. It's stuck. Cindra spits a wad at blood at me and I feel her shove the sword back into my stomach, tearing open every single wound. I can't even stop myself from crying as I try to blindly swing my fists at her. It hurts, it hurts...someone please make it stop!

It's enough to make me wish, for a single moment, that I was dead.

Cindra punches me in the neck. "Augh! You...you bitch! You ruined everything! I was..." she begins to violently cough. "I was...these were my Games! I...cough...I was going to... cough, cough...make something of...myself...I could've had it all...but you...cough...you ruined it!"

I push my knees right up against her body, ramming the machete so hard, Cindra's wound is torn open even further, causing a shower of blood to rain onto my face. Cindra licks her split lip and her tongue cleans away some of the blood, as she tries to punch me again. Her fist is way too easy to dodge. She's getting a bit weaker, I can tell.

But then again, so am I.

I don't know if I can make it any further.

I try to push her off me, her sweaty hands finally letting go on the sword in my stomach and she topples to the side. Her sword falls free, but too exhausted to react to the fire that explodes in my body. Come on VR, get up! It's almost over! Just one final push...

"Unlike you...I didn't want to..."  
"It's..." Cindra lets out a small laugh as she tries to yank the machete free. From some reason, she can't pull it out of her. "...not my...fault...cough...you're a...coward...you have to kill...to...cough...win...kill to win..."

So this is how it ends. With the two of us slowly bleeding out side by side until one of us somehow outlasts the other. No big final blow, no shot to the heart, nothing. This isn't a big, dramatic finale. It's quiet, dark, and horrific. What must my family be thinking, watching this happen?

_I don't want them to see me die._

I feel faint. Numb. I can't feel my hands. All I can think is blood. That's it. That's all I see. I'm drowning in a tidal wave of my own blood. I can't swim, I can't reach. I'm falling below the waves, sinking, sinking, sinking, deep, deep, deep...

I run a gross mixture of blood and sweat all over the shaft of my final arrow. Cindra groans softly, her hands sliding down the machete handle. She can't pull it free. I see her sword lying between us and I slowly push it away. It's going to end here. Someone is going to be put out of their misery.

I barely have enough energy to crawl over to Cindra, but eventually, she's within arm's reach. I use one of my hands to prop me up. She glances up at me with angry hazel eyes and her hands come flying out at me, right as I stab the arrow into her collarbone.

My hand gives away and I collapse to the ground, slamming my head. Hard. Cindra's nails dig into the back of my neck, but I can hardly notice that she's there. I can't feel a thing. I'm still holding the arrow, and I try to force it as deep as I can. Cindra lets out a mangled gasp and I feel small drops of blood trickle down my neck. I'm aware of the sticky pool that's below as my stomach gives way. Will I survive this? I don't know. We're both pretty fucked up right now.

"I'm sorry..." is all I can tell her. "But I...I wanna...go...home..."

The Victor won't be determined by who was the most popular tribute, or who had the most kills, or who made the finale an absolute spectacle. It all comes back down to luck, damn that word, and a simple will to live. Who's the lucky one? Who will it be?

I can hardly feel the pain my mess of a stomach is in right now. Or Cindra's hands as they slip off me. This can't be good.

_I want to make it out of here alive, I really do. But I don't know if I can. It hurts too much. I don't really wanna die. I just wanna go home. I want to live. Will anyone be mad at me? Will anyone miss me? Mom...Dad...I'm sorry. I wish I could be there for you guys, but I might not be. I'm glad I said everything to you when I did. At least I'll die with no regrets...after everything that has happened...after all I've done...whoever is watching me, I hope you'll miss me and you'll be proud that I tried my best._

The truth is, I don't want to just win for me. This would be for Troy, for Ethan, hell maybe for Whyllis and some others too. For everyone I've let die or couldn't save. I want them all to mean something, I don't want all their deaths to be in vain. I promised Troy I'd win for him! I promised!

I hope he won't be disappointed in me. I'm already disappointed in myself.

The bubbling lava slowly fades away and I don't bother fighting the urge to close my eyes. Cindra lets out a small moan. My hands go numb.

_VR, please. get up. Get up, get up, get up. It's almost over. You can do this. You just gotta get lucky._

Just one more lucky strike...

Just one more...

I just let my head rest against the surprisingly cool rock, as a peaceful feeling comes over me.


	28. The Show Must Go On

**Epilogue:**

* * *

_The show must go on_

_The show must go on_

_I'll face it with a grin_

_I'm never giving in_

_On with the show_

_I'll top the bill _

_I'll overkill_

_I have to find the will to carry on_

_On with the show_

* * *

"You know you can't stay here."  
"I know," I say quietly.

Troy just folds his arms. I've never seen him wear all white before. If I squint, I can pretend that he has angel wings spreading out from his back. But that's just silly.

"I don't want to go just yet."  
"But you have to!"  
"Just a few more minutes?"

"I think it's already been a few minutes already. It's kinda boring here too. Why don't you want to leave?"  
"I'm scared."  
"Of what?"

I just shrug. Or I think I do. I feel kinda...floaty. I don't know where I am, but it's so cool and peaceful and cozy. I don't want to leave. Here, nobody can get to me. I can just stay, chilling with Troy, who just watches me lie back and stare up at the bright light over our heads.

"Come on. Stop fooling around. You'll be fine."  
"But..."  
"I don't really know how to say this, but...you're really not supposed to be here right now..."

"Oh." Suddenly, I feel really chilly. "Guess I'll leave. Are you gonna stay?"  
"There's nowhere else for me to go."  
"When can I come back? I really wanna stay."

"Don't ask me. I don't have any clue. But I know you'll be back eventually."  
"Will you stay here? Like, right here?"  
"Here, in this spot?" Troy awkwardly rubs his shoulder. "Sure, if you want."

"Alright, then. Now what?"  
"Just wake up."  
"How?"  
"What do you mean how? Just...wake up."

_Wake. Up._

Something presses against my chest as a bunch of sparks fly through my body. Owwwww! I nearly curl upwards, grabbing the nearest hand. It's Cheyenne. Instantly, I let go. What that hell is she doing here!? Or...where the hell am I!?

Cheyenne elbows a guy wearing a blue shirt and a mask. "Alright, you did your job, now back off. She's alive."  
"We need to check her vitals."  
"You need to give her space."

The doctors all back away nervously and Cheyenne taps my shoulder. "How are you feeling?"  
"Like absolute crap."  
"Enjoy it now, because it's only gonna get worse from now on."

"What's going on? What are you doing here?"  
"I'm here to congratulate you. You won."  
A pang of guilt seeps into my chest. "What!?"

Cheyenne smirks. "Yeah, you caught a lucky break. So here's what I know. The Head Gamemaker ordered of both of you to be taken and operated on. I bet that whoever regained consciousness first would be declared the winner and they'd let the other die. But the girl from 2, they didn't even remove the machete, because she passed almost instantly. Or something; I wasn't there. But she died. Which meant you were the only one left, they prioritized saving you, and now you've won."

_I won._

My head starts pounding again. Thankfully, Cheyenne is there to catch me before I tumble sideways off the operating table. "Woah! Seriously, you just got out of the Games! Can you stop trying to get yourself killed for like, five minutes?"  
"Cheyenne, I don't care. I just wanna go home."  
"I know, kid. I know."

"Oh hun!" When did Rhiannon get here? Has she been in the corner this whole time? "You're alive! I am so proud of you!"

She wraps me in a large hug and it feels so, so, so good. We both start crying and I think Cheyenne even contributes a single tear. It's over. I survived. Never again will I have to wake up in that arena fearing for my life. I can go home. I miss home so much.

"I hate to break up the whole reunion party, but there's still a lot do," Cheyenne tells us. "There's gonna be an interview tonight."  
Another interview? Oh crap. "Do I have to?"  
"Yep. Suck it up, kid. You're a Victor now. Nobody said a Victor's life was easy."

I gently peel back the sheet covering me and table, before lifting up the hospital gown I'm wearing. My stomach is covered in a patchwork of scars and stitches. That's when I realize that my right hand only has three fingers. Two of them are missing, leaving behind small stubs.

"My hand! What did they do to my hand!?"  
"It's okay, hun!" Rhiannon gives me a nervous smile. "It's alright!"  
"No, it's not! Look at it! They chopped off my fingers!"

Cheyenne rolls her eyes. "Because they couldn't save your fingers! Or else your whole hand would've been infected and they'd have to remove that instead. You don't want that, huh? Yeah, I thought so. I'm sure you'll get fake robot ones eventually."  
"But...I don't want fake ones." I wipe away my tears with my good hand. "I didn't want them to..."

Rhiannon slowly rubs her hand along my back. "You know what? You're alive and that's the most important thing. You're safe. Come on, let's go get some dinner."

Dinner consist of sushi, little rolls of rice and fish wrapped in seaweed. My entire prep team is there (except for Diamond, thank goodness) and they all seem pretty happy to see me. I am too. And the food tastes good, but I'm not really hungry. But it's not a big deal anyways, since they're giving me noticeably less food than everyone else.

After dinner, Kanaya grabs my good hand. "Come on. We've got to get you ready."  
"Is Diamond gonna be there?"  
"Diamond had...a family emergency to take care of." Kanaya winks. "So lucky you, I'm in charge for tonight."

Kanaya shows off the dress that I'm going to wear. It's a lot longer and poofier, with a low neckline very short sleeves cleverly designed to cover up the large scar on my shoulder. Kanaya calls the dress itself a rose gold, but it's also decorated with large gold leaf chunks and sparkly sequins. And inside, there's a little extra padding around the stomach area, which makes it a little easier to slip into without tearing open my wounds for the third time.

"Kanaya, it's beautiful."  
"We're not done yet. We've still got shoes and makeup to do."

After slipping on a pair of gold ballet flats, I let Kanaya do my makeup. She applies a little bit of bronze eye shadow, some light pink lip gloss, gold blush, then pulls my crimped hair back so it's all out of my face. "There we go. You look perfect."

I don't even need to check myself in the mirror to know Kanaya did a good job. I trust her.  
"I think I'm ready now."  
"In that case, I'll see you after it's all over."

I force a smile. All that's left is the interview. And who knows how painful it will be.

And it's worse than I could imagine.

The questions they ask me, as if I haven't left the arena less than 24 hours ago. As if I'm not waiting for replacement fingers, or have scars running all over my body, or that I killed two people. I'm a mess of guilt and nerves and I can't let it show. I'm their little trophy they can doll up and show off to the rest of Panem. I hate it.

Did Ethan and I have a blooming relationship? No, we didn't know each other for very long. Was Troy jealous? I can't imagine why he'd have any reason to feel that way. Did I harbour secret feelings for Troy? No, never! What happened between me and Whyllis? I try to steer around that question because I really don't want to talk about it.

Rewatching the Games is the worst part of it all. I don't want to relive it ever again. I don't want to see what horrible ways they've corrupted the footage they have, to make it seem like Troy, Ethan and I had some stupid love triangle between us or God knows what else. It's absolutely disrespectful. Neither of my allies would ever stand for this.

The Final 8 interviews are the worst part. My parents both sport red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tears running down their cheeks. I've never seen my father cry before. Ever. They both plead for me to keep fighting and come home, words that I could never hear from the arena. Up until now, I've forced myself to sit through the whole recap.

Not here. I have to look away.

I can't do it.

The finale goes by a lot faster than I imagined. It didn't feel that quick to me. It felt like an eternity, lying there forever, slowly bleeding out and unable to do anything about it. And I just stare at my broken body. But somehow, I kept my shit together long enough to watch myself slowly die.

The screen goes dark for a bit, a cannon fires, then the final announcement is made as they zoom in on my exhausted face. "The Victor of the 20th Hunger Games is...Vera-Ryanna Kingsley!"

The audience begins to clap for me and I can finally relax; it will all be over soon. I just want to leave, to go home, to leave it all behind. I don't want to remember. I don't want these Games to be a part of who I am. But it's all too late for that now, isn't it?

The President is standing in front of me, holding a small golden crown. I force myself to hold eye contact as President Snow (who is not much older than me, imagine that!) slowly places it into my head. It's a very simple design, but in the middle of the crown is a ruby shaped like a burning flame.

Backstage, Rhiannon gives me another hug. "It's all over, hun. You can relax now. Ready to go to bed?"  
"I just want this day to be over with."  
"Not so fast." Kanaya pulls us apart. "You need to take off your makeup first."

I let Kanaya scrub my face clean. Some of the other Victors are here too, waiting to see the latest addition into their little club. They all politely keep their distance, except Royal Bauer, who pats me on the shoulder. I instantly pull back as the wound flares up again. He looks a little embarrassed, then has the audacity to actually smile at me.

"Not a bad win, kid. Two kills for someone your size is still pretty impressive."  
"It was all dumb luck. That's what it was."

For a moment, Royal stops smiling. "Luck is the reason anyone becomes a Victor. None of us won by sheer skill alone. You just have to be in the right place at the right time."

"Amen brother," Cheyenne mutters under my breath as a few others laugh and I grin, for real this time. Maybe this whole Victor thing won't be so bad after all.

* * *

**Well, now we know who the Victor of the Hunger Games actually is! But first, the remaining eulogies!**

**2nd place: Cindra Heath, District 2. Stabbed repeatedly by VR and bled out.**

**Yeah, like she was gonna survive getting impaled by a machete lmao. When I first received Cindra's form, I knew right away I was taking her all the way to the end for one glorious finale. I had such a spectacular cast of tributes who fell right into place but Cindra was the final piece of the puzzle. She was cast as the arena antagonist and she played her role perfectly. I know that a lot of readers weren't huge fans of her for killing seven tributes, but I loved to write her! She added so much to this story and I think this is the perfect end for her. SchroedingersKneazle, thank you so much for this amazing villain!**

**VICTOR: Vera-Ryanna Kingsley, District 10.**

**When I started this story, I knew that it was always going to be about VR's journey from tribute to Victor. But for me, it was less about her winning and more about what she had to go through to get to that point. She had to develop as a character and as a person and I think she's really changed from the girl who kicked this whole thing off back in Chapter 1. I was so worried that this story would get bombed with criticism and negative reviews and I'd never get the cast I needed, but I did and there was so many fun tributes for VR to interact with! She got to grow some really unique relationships with them, which influenced the Victor she became. VR started off as a shy, sensitive, emotion-driven teenager living in District 10, and it's crazy to see how much she's really changed after everything she's had to overcome.**

* * *

**The Games are over, the Victor has been crowned, and we're only a few chapters away from the end. Did VR's win surprise you? What was your favourite moment from the arena? How do you think VR's life in District 10 will change?**

** Anyways, shameless self plug for the sequel, which is dropping on the 1st of May! We're currently two chapters away from the end of this story and I'll see you all there!**

**-Vr**


	29. Sweet Emotion

**Epilogue:**

* * *

_Sweet emotion_

_Sweet emotion_

_Talk about things that nobody cares_

_Wearing other things that nobody wears_

_You're callin' my name, but I gotta make it clear_

_I can't say, baby, where I'll be in a year_

* * *

The train ride home is taking forever.

I can't wait to finally leave, and go back to my family. I've only been away for about two weeks, but that's still a very long time. It's even longer when you know you might never live to see them again. But I'm still here.

"Soon hun," Rhiannon says softly, taking a delicate sip form her teacup. "Less than an hour to go."  
"I could walk home and it would be faster."  
"Oh no it wouldn't."

Cheyenne sighs. "We'll get there when we get there. But I know how you feel. I want to see my fiance again."  
Something occurs to me. "Cheyenne, what if everyone is mad because...I...you know..."  
"No, no, you'll be fine. Trust me. Compared to what I did in my arena, you're a literal saint."

I can't even remember what Cheyenne's Games were like, and it might not be a good idea to pester her about it. So I let the matter drop and start watching the world fly by through the window. I don't wanna wait any longer. I just want to be back...

The train comes to a stop and I can see a gathering of people outside. I don't recognize any of them.  
Cheyenne lingers at the door. "This is it. Are you ready?"  
"I suppose so."

I never even knew that there were so many people in District 10. The train station is crowded, where Peacekeepers form a blockade between them and me. Thankfully, Cheyenne is there, which makes me feel a little less isolated. But everyone's here for me. To welcome me home.

I catch three familiar faces pushing towards the front of the crowd and I down towards them, past the Peacekeepers. They don't make any attempt to stop me; nobody wants to be responsible for hurting the latest Victor. And nobody gets in my way as I jump at my parents. They catch me as if I was a little child.

"Oh honey," Mom whispers, stroking my hair. "Oh sweetheart. My little girl..."  
"Great job Ria," Dad says softly. "We knew you could do it."

I feel warm. I feel safe. I feel loved.

The cheering continues but I pay it no attention. What matters I that I'm here, my parents are here, and it's as if nothing has changed. I made it home, back to District 10 where I belong. I fight for my right to get here, and now I can stay. There's nothing holding me back.

I don't want this moment to change. Ever.

* * *

That whole moment was three weeks ago. And everything has changed since then.

The houses in Victor's Village have always looked pretty big to me, but they're actually bigger than I thought. Even for someone who comes from the more fortunate end of 10. And there's so much money. My parents could never work again if they wanted to. But the rules are they can only manage my funds until I've aged out of the Reaping bracket and then, it will all belong to me. But I let them help themselves to whatever they need for shopping and the like. They're grateful for it.

The same can't be said for my little brother.

Ever since he found out he'd live in the biggest house out of all his friends and belonged to one of the richest families in 10, Alan has gone off the deep end into becoming a spoiled brat. For him, it's never enough. He wishes we had more money, a bigger yard, a better pool, more toys, more of this, more of that! He wants it all! He needs to get his way! And he's not even happy with that we already have!

The money to pay for the expensive shit he treats himself to came from his big sister almost sacrificing her life.

And he doesn't even care.

One night, Alan starts to complain about the salmon we're having for dinner that was sent to us straight from 4; fish is considered a luxury in the livestock district. But it's not cooked properly, not seasoned properly, he hates the way it tastes, it hasn't been cut the way he wants it. He stabs his knife straight through it, almost sounding like an arrow through someone's flesh-

I slam my hands on the table. Nobody says anything, but at least Alan's shut up for now.

Everyone at school is jealous. Yes, Mom still makes me go to the summer school classes, for those who can actually afford them. I can hear them whispering to themselves behind my back. They sneer at me when I pass by. When they're certain I'm looking, they raise their rights hands and pretend to scratch their eyes out.

My new fingers have come in already. They work perfectly fine and fit like a glove. But it's not the same. In District 10, where accidents happen and not everyone can afford a replacement limb, people will notice. And they don't like what they see.

"Ignore them," Jess says. "They're just jealous."  
"But it's hard."  
"They'll stop when they see they can't get to you."

I tap my new fingers against my desk in school. People laugh. The teacher slams a yardstick against a textbook to calm us all down. But all I hear is Cindra's sword piercing through Troy's body. I cover my eyes. Please, please don't send me back to the arena, please...

At night, I'm too afraid to fall asleep. All that awaits me is the bodies and ghosts of old enemies. Every little sound reminds me of another. One thing triggers something else until I'm collapsing against a wall, hyperventilating and screaming for my life.

I don't want to go back.

"Is that why you're here?" Dr. Kirsten says, scribbling a note down with his pen. "Your parents mentioned something about constant panic attacks."  
"I don't know...is that what they are?"

"You worked with past therapists before me, right? What have they told you?"  
"Yeah, I guess I have some panic attacks."  
"What would you say usually triggers them?"

"Um...sometimes I hear a noise, and it reminds me of..." I don't want to cry in front of some random stranger. So far, Dr. Kirsten hasn't been that impressive. But I guess he's a little more tolerable than some of the other therapists I've dealt with before. Some who insist I'm fine, some who are just after my money, and one asshole who just blamed all my problems on being a woman! The absolute nerve!

But Cheyenne recommends this guy, who she apparently saw for about a year after her Games. So he does know how to work with people like her and me.

"You hear something, which reminds you of a notable noise you heard in the arena?"  
"Yes?" I curl up across his nice leather couch.  
"And nightmares? When you have these nightmares, what's the most common thing you see?"

"I don't know...Troy, I think. And he always looks mad...he says it's my fault...that I...I..." No, no! Keep it together, VR! You're not gonna cry, you don't wanna cry...  
Dr. Kirsten just waits a few seconds. He doesn't react at all. Maybe he's dealt with crazier patients before. But if he can handle Cheyenne, I'm a lot tamer by comparison.

"Have you always found some noises to be particularly uncomfortable? Before the Games, did they trigger panic attacks?"  
"Um, no...not exactly...but I do hate it when..."  
"When?"

I shiver. "When my dad, he...he tends to chew really really loud, I don't like when...when people do that...or when they smack their lips...it makes me uncomfortable..."  
"So those are some of the sounds you're very sensitive to?"  
"Yes? I don't know!"

Dr. Kirsten flips through his notes. "There was an incident your mother told me about where you punched a classmate in the face because he reportedly touched you in a way you didn't like. Now, I understand why you wouldn't care for this sort of behaviour, but witnesses did say it looked rather innocent. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"He...he jabbed his finger in my gut...he touched a scar and it hurt...I thought he was someone else."  
"Is that a very sensitive area for you to be touched in? Do you feel uncomfortable with physical contact in general?"  
"Some places are okay like one of my shoulders...but I don't like being touched in general...by random people..."

"Is this not a comfortable topic for you?"  
"No." The waterworks have started and I can't seem to get it to stop. "Can we talk about something else?"

"If you want. But I do want to get to the root of why you're feeling this way. And I've talked with some of your past therapists to get a better insight as to who you are before you came into my office. I understand, it's hard talking about what makes you uncomfortable, especially for someone who's highly sensitive..."

_Highly sensitive?_

"Wait...you think I'm really...sensitive?"  
"You appear to be overwhelmed by strong sensory inputs. You're very aware of the pain you feel and other people's emotions and feelings, as well as your own. Now, please understand that there's nothing wrong with this at all. Being a highly sensitive person is not necessarily a bad thing."

It does to me. Being a highly sensitive person, someone who's different, someone who is not the norm. And I've seen the way people react to me already.

"Sometimes, I feel like there might be something wrong with me. And it turns out I'm just really fucking sensitive."  
'Well, if you keep viewing it in a negative light, then it will sound like a negative thing. But just know I'm willing to work through this with you, if you're willing to work with me."

Dr. Kirsten's voice sounds very gentle. I decided I'll give him a second chance.

"We're out of time, unfortunately. And I've got another client coming soon. Would you like to set another appointment?"  
"Same time a week from now?"  
"That sounds good to me."

Outside Dr. Kirsten's office, someone waits for me. "Hey VR."  
"What are you doing here?"  
"Looking for you."

I don't bother hiding my displeasure. She knows I'm not happy with her. I've heard the gossip she indulges in about me. The rotten looks she throws me way. And the past teasing and mocking she's done. So knowing she's back for more is just rubbing salt in the wound.

"I just want to apologize."  
"For what?"  
"For...stuff."

I shake my head. "An apology for 'stuff' isn't going to cut it."  
"Than what should I say?"  
"Take your time. I've got all day."

Sadie awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "Alright, then. Fine. If I ever said anything to you that hurt your feelings, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about doing it behind your back. It's not fair of me. And I never realized how much it absolutely hurt you. Is that good enough?"

It's not enough. There's still too much ground to cover, and I'm not in the mood to deal with any of this. But...it is a start.

"Honestly, I don't know what to say. But if you genuinely feel sorry, then I guess I have to accept it."  
"You think we can try again? Like, actually being friends this time?"

* * *

Turns out, Sadie and I have a lot in common.

We both share a similar taste in humour and music. She's actually pretty funny, and oddly sympathetic, always very polite when asking about my arena experiences. And when Angie suggested my class work together to sponsor me something, Sadie was the one who suggested a basket of tomatoes. Looking back now, I suppose it was pretty funny.

Sometimes we hang out with our friends, but today, we're alone. We're sitting under a tree at one of the many shallow ponds in District 10. This one is unusually empty; there's no farmers bringing their cattle along for a drink or little children splashing around.

Sadie chucks a rock into the pond. "So, how do the fingers work? Is it like being part robot?"  
"No. It's nothing special. Just feels weird."  
"You totally have a robot hand."  
"Do not!"

"Oi, Sadie! Whatcha up to?"  
Sadie waves to a trio of boys standing on the other side of the pond. "Oh, hey guys!"  
"Who's that?"

"Oh, they're just some classmates. That's Max, Linus, and Beau. Mind if they hang out with us?"

I'm not in a position to object and she knows it. Anyways, the boys are all pretty chill and cool guys to hang out with. Linus in particular is really funny. He and I hit it off right away. He tells me about his family's restaurant and invites us all to come over sometime. I wouldn't mind spending more time with him.

"Is it true you actually punched Boren Saummers in the face?"  
I nervously flex my fingers. "He started it."  
Linus gives me a weird smirk. "Good. About time someone put that asshole in his place."

Sadie won't stop grinning as she follows me home. "Don't they all look cute?"  
"Uh...I guess they are? But I don't view them in that sense."  
"Yeah right."  
"Shut up."

Once I'm inside and Sadie and I have said our goodbyes, I mark down my next appointment with Dr. Kirsten on a calendar. He does seem like someone I can work with. Someone I'm willing to open up to. I'm willing to admit to him that the idea of being considered a highly sensitive person is a bit unnerving and I do need help after all.

It's a strange feeling.

But if I can get stabbed in the stomach twice, get my face cut open, my shoulder sliced up, lose two fingers, and walk out of it alive, then a little therapy isn't going to scare me.

* * *

**A few weeks after the Games, VR is starting to settle back into routine, make some friends, and get some much needed therapy! Did the revelation of her being a highly sensitive person (HSP) surprise you? Do you think she and Sadie will be able to put aside their differences and get along? Or will it take them much longer?**

**One last epilogue left until we wrap this story up and the sequel drops!**

**-Vr**


	30. The Middle

**Epilogue:**

* * *

_Hey, you know they're all the same._

_You know you're doin' better on your own, s__o don't buy in._

_Live right now, just be yourself._

_It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else._

_It just takes some time_

_Little girl you're in the middle of the ride,_

_Everything, everything will be just fine._

_Everything, everything will be alright._

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Kanaya asks me as she runs a curling iron through my hair.  
"Really nervous."  
"Oh, please. I'm sure you'll be fine. And with an outfit like this, who needs nerves?" Kanaya unplugs the iron. "Now hold still. This lip gloss was expensive."

Alan pokes his head through the door. "What are you doing?"  
I can't answer, because I'm not going to piss off the person making me look good, so Kanaya address my little brother for me. "We're working on her makeup!"  
Alan makes a face. "Makeup is so gross! Girls are so stupid for liking it."

Kanaya waves the wand in his face. "Makeup is not just for girls. Makeup helps to enhance natural beauty. In the case of a mug like yours, I'd just use it to cover your entire face."

Alan looks appropriately horrified and runs off, probably to go blab to Mom about how I turned my stylist against him. But given the way he's been acting in the past six months, it's about time that someone finally put him in his place.

"And we're done!" Kanaya claps her hands together and beams. "Oh, you look wonderful! Come see!"

She's given me a simple fluffy light grey coat over a long black dress with thin sleeves. My leggings look like they're almost the same colour as my skin and Kanaya has provided some brown cowboy boots for me to wear. I hope I don't get them too dirty.

"That's a lot of brown and grey."  
"Perfect colour scheme for District 10. But I promise, I will make you some more colourful outfits as we go along." Kanaya glances around the living room. "Oh my, that's a lovely piano. Is it yours?"

"Yeah. I need to have a talent, so I took up music." I shrug, careful not to slip my coat off. "I'm not really good at it, though."  
"Well, all you need is practice." Kanaya holds her wrist up to her face, checking the time on her silver watch. "We're running late! We've got get you outside right now!"

It's the first day of the Victory Tour, where I'll be filmed saying my goodbyes to my district. Funny to think how the Tour will be longer than my actual Games, but hopefully, not as painful. Just two weeks, and I'll be back home. Plus, I'll get to see all the other districts for the first time, not just clips shown during televised events.

I'm a little nervous; I really don't like having cameras on me.

Kanaya leads me outside, where I can see a crew of cameras already set up. There's a few people waiting for me: my family (who they must've been interviewing), Cheyenne, Rhiannon, and the rest of my prep team. I can also see a crowd of people gathered at the gates of Victors Village. Nobody dares to push them open, especially with all the Peacekeepers around.

Someone shoves a microphone into my face. "And there she is, our lovely latest Victor! Are you ready for your Tour, Miss Kingsley? What are you most excited for? We must know!"  
"Um...seeing all the other districts, I guess! I can't wait to visit them!"

"Wonderful answer! Now everybody back, off! Give your dear Victor some space!"

I manage to quickly wave to my parents as the camera crew marches me towards the train station. The crowd follows, eager to see me off. I bite my lip; Kanaya's lip gloss tastes just like caramel. When was the last time I had so many people watching my every move? Honestly, I don't miss the feeling at all.

"Hey VR! Wait up!" Linus shoves through the crowd, getting some dirty looks for everyone whose arm he just bumped into. He bends over, panting heavily. Sadie is close behind.  
"Linus? What are you doing? Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Good luck out there!"

Sadie flashes me an evil grin as she punches Linus in the shoulder. I give him one last wave, before someone pushes me onto the train and the doors slam shut. For a second, it's like it's the Reaping all over again...

The last 6 months feel like a blur. All the therapy I had, all the healing I did...it's like it's been thrown out the window. I thought I could move on and for a moment, I did. The idea of having to face my Games once I've finally started to escape them...it's a sick joke. I can't escape the dread, the guilt...

_I let all these kids die so I could go to their homes and give a speech where I pretend I care._

"Are you ready?" Rhiannon trills. She's wearing a thick black coat with a ring of fur around her neck. "Oh, I'm so excited!"

"I'm nervous, " I admit. "I don't want to go to District 2."

Cheyenne gives me a sympathetic stare. But since it's coming from Cheyenne, it looks more like a demented grin. "Oh please. It's been seven years and 4 still hates my guts. I guess I did deserve it. But the other districts aren't gonna be like that. Trust me, 2 isn't gonna give a rat's ass about you."

Rhiannon scowls. "Cheyenne! That's an awfully rude thing to say!"  
"What? It's the truth!"

"That's fine." I can't help but smile a little. "I don't want 2 to give a rat's ass about me anyways."

"That's the spirit." Cheyenne snaps her fingers. "Anyways, let's take it easy for today. Because the shitshow's gonna be in full swing starting tomorrow."

* * *

We start off in District 12.

It's not exactly easy, but it seems that I'll be let off the hook a little because I did technically avenge one of their tributes. The atmosphere here is somber and quiet. Almost as if everyone is too exhausted to really do anything. Snow begins to gently fall on top of everything.

The two families are expressionless and stand completely still, almost like the Peacekeepers on the steps of the Justice Building. On Maryann's pedestal, I catch a 16 year-old boy snarl at me before burying his face in his mother's arms.

District 12 has no Victors, only an assigned mentor from the Capitol, who didn't even bother showing up today. But their old escort shakes my hand once I'm back in the Justice Building after giving a very scripted speech. His name is Dimitri and he claims he's going to make sure he gets a tribute home before he dies. I just watch the way he taps his cane on the floor in a slow steady beat.

This isn't a pleasant sight.

This is hard.

This is one of eleven districts whose chance of victory I stole.

What is the rest of the tour going to be like?

Rhiannon just smiles and throws her arm around my shoulder; oh yeah, we're matching today. Big poofy black dresses and clunky platform heels that are doing their jobs of keeping us warm in all this wind and snow. Thanks Kanaya.

Anyways Rhiannon and Dimitri are chatting it up. Probably escort talk. Rhiannon just continues to squeeze me even tighter. "I'm so proud of this girl! She's been taking this Victor thing amazingly well! Even better than Cheyenne!"

I hear a faint shout from across the hall as Rhiannon winks at me and I can't resist holding back my snickers.

* * *

Next up is District 11.

Basil's pedestal looks so sad; he's only got a middle-aged man and an older woman standing on it, which I'm assuming to be his father and grandmother. Jane's parents are hard to read, standing with stony faces in a front of a large screen with her smirking face on it.

Honestly, I never thought that I'd miss hanging out with such a sassy 12 year-old.

I want to crumple up my speech in my hands. It just feels so fake. And it's not doing justice to anything. Part of me also wants to break down, to fall to my knees crying and beg Jane for her forgiveness, wherever she may be right now. There's a small commotion as someone pushes through the crowd and I hear a Peacekeeper cock their gun.

I don't dare to deviate from the script after that.

District has a single Victor, who actually won a few years ago. And Jacob Fuji doesn't seem too bothered by everything, surprisingly. I try muttering a few condolences, but he just shrugs it off. "Eh, what can you do anyways? They were both young."

"Yeah, but I still feel really bad."  
"There wasn't a lot I could've helped with anyways. Sucks sometimes. Hey, there's always next year. By the way, loving the outfit."

I tug at the frilly ends of the dark red sundress, as Kanaya calls it. Beside Jacob, the District 11 escort giggles hysterically, fanning his face. Weird. And from what I can tell, Rhiannon and Cheyenne don't seem too fond of him either.

No wonder Basil and Jane had no chance. Their mentor had given up on them a long time ago. Before he even got to meet them at the Reaping.

* * *

District 9 is a little easier to bear.

I didn't really know much about the tributes, which makes me a little shameful to admit. Both of their pedestals are pretty crowded with what I'm guessing has to be extended family. Magaz's pedestal has three children running around, constantly being shushed by the older adults.

Like 11, there's only a single Victor for this district. I remember seeing Rosie Pascel's Games once or twice when I was really little, but I don't exactly recall the specific details. But they are a legend of sorts, having won the 2nd Games at the age of 15.

And right now, they're pulling a flask and a fancy goblet from their purse, emptying some of the flask into the cup. I just watch, but I have a feeling I'm not exactly supposed to be seeing this. The rest of my team is off somewhere, after the District 9 escort, who introduced herself as Fontana, insisted on giving everyone a Justice Building tour so the two Victors could have some "alone time" and whatnot.

I kinda wish I had an adult with me right now.

Rosie lets out a loud hiccup, clumsily screwing the lid back on the flask. I dust off my clothes and that's when they finally look up at me. "Oh hey, didn't notice you. Want a sip?"

"Um...I'm 15."  
"Your point is? Is that a yes or no?"  
"I...no. No, I'm good."

"Suit yourself." Rosie tucks the flask back into their purse. "If you want me to congratulate you or whatever, you're looking for the wrong person. All I can say is welcome to hell. Some days, you're gonna wish that girl from 2 slit your throat back in the arena."

"I don't like thinking about that."  
"And I don't like thinking about how I've spent almost two decades of my life watching children die before I could do something to save them. But what can we do about it?"

Now would be a good time to move on with the rest of the Tour.

* * *

In District 8, there's a heavy layer of smog in the air, which makes me feel even colder, despite all the wind.

Damask has a single person standing on his pedestal who looks so much like him, I'm practically seeing double. Ellie, on the other hand, has both parents and two siblings. Her sister looks like she could be the same age as me. We lock eyes and she just gives me a little shrug of sorts. I nod in response.

I'm not gonna make any excuses and she seems to appreciate it.

I already know I let her sister down.

Unlike the past districts, the atmosphere in the Justice Building is a little less tense, with both of 8's Victors trying to lighten the mood. After hearing about my time with Rosie, Ciera Harbington decides to pull me aside for a little pep talk. "Look, some of the others have already given up, but you can't do that. Or you'll never succeed."

"Or I can wait for one of my tributes to get a lucky break. Like me."  
"Well...I suppose you could. But the odds of that happening again are-"

There's a loud shriek from Rhiannon, who suddenly jumps up from her armchair. Beside her is 8's other Victor, Maurice Merridew, who gives her a small, sheepish grin. His sleeves hang loosely off his arms, and two prosthetic hands lie at his feet. No way they just fell out as an accident.

"Did he do that on-"  
Ciera groans. "I thought I told him to be on his best behaviour. Maurice!"  
"What!? I didn't even do anything! Can nobody around here take a joke?" He waves his sleeves in my direction. "Oh, hey Kingsley! Look, we're matching!"

I wiggle my fake fingers at Maurice, then flip him the bird. He just bursts into laughter as Rhiannon shoots him a well deserved, but slightly nasty, glare. At least some of us are having fun right now. I don't know how many more depressed Victor meetups I can take.

* * *

Unlike before, where everything has been rather solemn, District 7 is a little pissed.

Who can blame them? They had two tributes in the Top 8! But the only thing I have going for me is that they're just upset in general, not because I did anything. I barely knew Sitka and I wasn't about to mess with Tyrone, the only guy in the arena carrying a blowgun.

Sitka's parents are openly sobbing as her younger sister just keeps staring at the ground. Tyrone's got his mother and what I'm guessing are his three older brothers, all of them looking ready to beat someone up. Good thing I'm here and they're over there.

Only one of 7's Victors has shown up today; nobody else knows where Ivy is and they don't seem too worried about looking for her. Her protege, Spruce, just throws an arm around me, very careful to watch my shoulder. He reminds me of Royal, but less of an ass. Apparently, he and his mentor don't get along.

"Just saying, the anti-District 2 Club is always looking for new members."  
I tug awkwardly at my scarf. "I think I'll pass."  
"Bo-ring."  
"Sorry."

"Eh, whatever." Spruce pretends to be really interested in his nails. "Just a joke. You can't take a joke?"  
"I didn't even realize you were joking."  
"You know VR, I'm starting to think you and I will be good friends. Eh, VR? I can call you VR, right?"

I must've grimaced or something because he suddenly slaps me on the back and laughs. "Hey relax! It's just a joke!"

"Right...you're joking..." I giggle nervously. I excuse myself so I can go find Ivy and hide from Spruce with her.

* * *

I've been dreading this moment ever since the train left my house in Victor's Village. I knew I couldn't prolong this forever, and despite how much convinced myself I was physically ready to handle this, I'd never be ready enough.

District 6 is its own special kind of painful.

The entire time, I can't even look over at Ethan's family. I spend the whole speech watching Abril's pedestal instead where her older brother holds a new born in his arms, standing off to the side and away from her parents. The sight makes me queasy to even think about.

The words I'm saying feel absolutely fake. I want to cry. But I can't. Will it matter? The nation's already seen me have a mental breakdown on live television. What would Ethan think, knowing that the best I can do for him is a simple, scripted speech?

Being inside the Justice Building also feels really depressing.

District 6's assigned Capitol mentor, Gardenia Hopkins, barely even acknowledges me. Her daughter, who also happens to be the escort, hands me a small cup of sweet smelling tea and we chat for a bit. She doesn't want to leave her mother alone, at least not until 6 finally gets a Victor of their own.

At this point, the idea of mentoring has felt like a dream and I never even realized that I'll have to do it next Games. But this Tour has really driven the point home. I might end up like all these Victors, escorts, and mentors. Failing over and over again as a tribute who is not theirs parades all over the place.

The Tour practically rubs it in their faces.

I'm scared," I whisper to Rhiannon once we're back on the train. "I don't know if I'm ready to mentor."  
"I don't think you have to worry, hun. You still have time."

Cheyenne glares in her direction. I excuse myself to go change. This is one of those topics that my escort doesn't understand and my mentor doesn't want to help me understand.

* * *

The air of District 5 is pretty gloomy and smoggy and the factories contribute a ton of background noise, but I suppose things could be worse. Too bad it's not thick enough to cover to accusing faces of Flynn and Karen staring me down. The fact that Karen's mother is holding a baby in her arms doesn't help either. Flynn's sister flips the bird at me, the girl indirectly responsible for her brother's death.

I got through the previous district, right? I can get through this.

Back in the Justice Building, District 5's grumpy old escort forces their sole Victor, Rufus LaFone, to at least acknowledge my existence. He mutters something under his breath that I don't really catch, then plops himself down in the nearest chair.

I hesitate a bit before moving a little closer. "Um...sorry, I didn't hear what you said."  
"I didn't say shit. Just congratu-fucking-lations. Now leave me alone."

I catch a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath. I've never been fond of the smell.

"Hey kid, you really that deaf? Leave me alone! Don't go outside either. Since you're the only one left, 5's gonna take it out on you. All that shit with Flynn was technically your fault."

I spend about fifteen or so minutes wandering about the Justice Building by myself until Cheyenne grabs my hand and pulls me back to the train station. She's been bitter ever since the whole mentoring conversation came up. We don't speak or look each other in the eyes. Or at least she doesn't.

Great. Now she's pissed off too. And she won't even tell me why.

* * *

In District 4, the setup is a little different, with one large platform that's been built for the families of Quincy and Anthony. There's a very clear divide with everyone standing off either to the left or right. Clearly, grief did not bring them together.

I read through the speech as fast as I can. Unlike every other script I've been given, this one does the tributes more justice than I ever could. Because I have some very choice words I'd like to say that make me hope nobody in the crowd is holding a spear for whatever reason.

Just read what is written, VR. You've made it this far without fucking that up.

This District is also home to the first ever Hunger Games Victor, Spinnaker Tore. It feels a little intimidating shaking his hand, but he gives me a warm welcome and I can tell that if he's mad, he's doing a good job of hiding it. But he's probably seen a lot of tributes fail to come home over the years.

I wonder how that must feel. Then I decided I don't want to know.

Their escort, Melodie, holds her swollen stomach and lingers by the side of the other Victor, Dane Gustav, who's way too busy bickering with Cheyenne. I look up at Spinnaker (oh my God, he's so tall) for some confirmation and he gives me a nod. I guess Victor-escort relationships are a thing after all. I thought they'd be considered taboo.

"Cheyenne!" Dane blows her a kiss. "Can't believe you'd actually show up again, ya filthy cheater!"  
"And miss a chance a meet up with my favourite, favourite Victor?" Cheyenne winks at Melodie. "You've been busy, I see!"  
"Cattle-killing bitch."  
"Seadwelling asshole."

"Just ignore them," Spinnaker sighs. I flash him a silent thumbs up. Good advice.

* * *

Just like so many past destinations, District 3 is extremely somber and silent. Delta has some family mourning for her, but Gayle's is completely empty. Does he not have anyone? Did they not show up? Honestly, I don't know how to react or what to say. I just feel numb to it all.

I can't imagine not having someone there for me.

In the Justice Building, Rhiannon and I go looking for the Victors when someone shoves the Peacekeepers out of his way and grab my shoulder. It doesn't really hurt anymore, but I still flinch, especially when I notice that it's Gayle's boyfriend standing behind me.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. _Please don't punch me or anything._  
"That doesn't bring him back," he hisses before the Peacekeepers drag him back outside.

Ira Evans is really nice. I spend about an hour listening to them talk about aircraft. Evenlyn Quoax spends the whole time sulking in the corner, but she occasionally chimes in with some conversation. Before it's time to leave, she tells me that she loves to bake and promises she'll send me some recipes.

On the train, I flip through the TV channels, looking for something good to watch before bed. Cheyenne just sits across from me with a cup of coffee and sips from it quietly. "Deacon and River."  
"Huh? Who's that?"

"Their names were Deacon and River. He was 17, she was 14. Both of them loved the colour blue. He always wanted a pet dog and she went birdwatching with her mother every weekend. They made to the top eight, then got ambushed by an asshole from 4. She was lucky; she died quickly. He had his limbs slowly sliced off and ended up bleeding out. I had my eyes shut the whole time."

I try to remember the District 10 tributes from the 14th Games, but I just can't. That feels so long ago. I just stare down at my feet, because my socks seem really interesting now. Cheyenne probably notices. This has to be really hard for her.

"You never forget the first tribute you mentored."  
"Ever?"  
"Ever."

* * *

Here comes the day I've been dreading this whole time.

On one hand, it's pretty obvious that Troy meant a lot to me. But how can I look Cindra's family in the eyes after everything that happened?

Up on the pedestals, her parents, grandmother, and little brother all have completely neutral faces. I can't blame them for not being happy. But, I don't think they're mourning her either. They don't care. She's not a Victor. She's dead to this world and dead to them too.

I glance over their heads at Cindra's steel eyes and all I can do is pity her. No wonder she turned out the way she did. No wonder she was willing kill everyone in the way of her and victory.

I continue on with my speech, which is a lot kinder to Cindra and colder to Troy than I realize, forcing myself to not speed up. I try and keep my voice calm, eyes on thee paper, blinking back tears. I'm not going to break down, not in front of a district that hates my guts. Don't cry don't cry don't cry-

"YOU JERK!"

Shit! I've lost my spot on the script. Whee the hell did I drop off from-

"LOOK AT ME!" Troy's sister screams and I faintly hear her parents try and shush her. "I HOPE YOU DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH! I HOPE SOMEONE RIPS ALL YOUR ORGANS OUT AND STRANGLES YOU WITH THEM! YOU...YOU JERK! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!"

I quickly find where I left off and continue with the speech. The crowd continues to mumble as I finish off and the Peacekeepers force me inside.

Sometimes districts have no Victor, some have two. This District has four. Aramon Devoulvier and Joan Tuscemore won back-to-back, started up the Career Academy, then got married. There's Roman Michael, who was Troy's mentor and has made it pretty obvious he doesn't think very highly of me. And Augustine Marcius, who won two years before me, and decides to stay out of the conversation by stuffing his face with the food laid out in another room.

Roman sneers at me. "Don't get so full of yourself. Pure dumb luck, that's all it was."  
"I know." I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "I'm not stupid."  
"Is that so? I wouldn't call blindly trusting the girl who stabbed you a smart move."

God, I want to punch him so bad. "You know what, I don't care! I fought to get out of there like you did!"  
"Fighting, my ass! You didn't even try!"

"Roman!" Aramon snaps as I throw my hands up in the air, then run off before I actually snap and try to beat somebody up. The first room I find is the one with all the snacks. Augustine just looks up at me. For a moment, we both just stare at each other; despite winning very close to each other, he's several years older than me. Finally, he holds out a toothpick with an orange square on it.

"Want a cheese cube?"

* * *

There's a huge sense of relief washing over me when the train pulls into District 1. Just this, then a big party in the Capitol, and I can go back home.

Opal's pedestal has a single man with two other teenagers while Bartleby's parents just quietly hold each other. I scan the rest of the crowd and as expected, nobody seems to impressed to see me. Why not? I've made it very clear I didn't care for one of their tributes. I straight up shot her in an act of revenge.

It felt so good back then. It just seems rather pathetic now.

Guess who's waiting for me in the Justice Building. Good old Royal Bauer. "Ah, good to see you again, Kingsley! Welcome to our humble abode!"  
"How long have you been waiting?"

"Long enough for me to go introduce my Victor buddy to everyone else." Royal grabs my good hand. "And here's our little clique. That's Mariette over there, she's kinda pissed at you. But she'll get over it. And here's my mentor, Ferriero! Ferriero, look over here! Say hi to Kingsley!"  
"Did you just call me your Victor buddy?"

"Yep. Your Victor buddy is the person who won the Games after you. So I'm Augustine's buddy and you're mine."  
"Is that even a thing?"  
"It's my thing. Now we gotta wait six months to see who your Victor buddy will be, huh?"

I grimace, grabbing onto the end of the bright pink shirt Kanaya gave me this morning. "Yeah...not really in a hurry to see that..."

Royal bursts into laughter. "Alright, I'll make sure I tell the kids not to be too hard on yours. How does that sound?"  
I just give him a quick thumbs-up. Yeah, jokes aside, not having any enemies might be a good idea. I just want to move on with the Tour already.

Once I'm finally back on the train, I collapse on the nearest couch. I just want to take a nap, only for a few minutes...

"What the hell is going on here-"  
"Let her be, hun! We've still got a few hours before dinner."

Someone throws a blanket over me and my eyes flutter shut.

* * *

"Ow!"

"If you stopped moving so much, it wouldn't hurt," Kanaya insists, picking up the bobby pin she dropped on the floor. "It's not even that big."  
"You poked me with it!"  
"Hold still!" Kanaya brushes me off, then steps back. "There, see? That wasn't so hard?"

She's really outdone herself this time. The dress is strapless and a dark red with a mint green sash around my waist. My hair's been pinned up behind my back, revealing a gold necklace that resembles the crown I received shortly after making it out of the arena. A little bit of makeup covers the fading scars on my shoulder and a pair of green gloves lie on a nearby chair. I quickly slip them on. Thankfully, the fabric stops just above my knees.

"Ready to go?"  
"I don't know." I slip on the gloves. "Parties make me nervous."  
Kanaya places her hands on her hips. "You just haven't been to the right parties then."

To call this final stop of the Victory Tour a "party" is an understatement. Because it's so much more. There are so many faces here. A lot of food to eat too, a giant golden floor for dancing, large windows that have been opened up to let some air in...

Some of the Victors have shown up too, for whatever reason. I don't feel like talking to them. I just want a moment to myself.

I spend some time hanging out by the walls, until I find a way outside to a little rose garden. There's a small clearing where a couple of benches surround a marble fountain. I linger there for a bit, watching the water's small ripples travel to the edges of the fountain. A small gust of cool wind blows by.

The past few days have been very overwhelming, physically and emotionally. All I want is just a few minutes to relax, alone.

"Hey. Mind if I sit here?"  
I shake my head, before realizing Cheyenne can't see me. "No. It's fine."

"Good." She lets out a loud huff. I notice that her dress is really similar to mine in terms of colour. "Some Capitolites can be such assholes at times! How are you holding up?"  
"I'm just glad it's almost over."  
"Fair enough. Not like I expected anything else."

The fountain shoots a small jet of water into the air. A strand of loose hair falls down the side of my face. I tuck it away. "Is mentoring scary?"  
"Not as scary as being the mentee."  
"But...you've done it for a few years and you've only succeeded once. Me. Doesn't that...well...scare you?"

"No." Cheyenne shakes her head. "I'm one of the lucky ones I guess. You got guys like Rufus and Rosie who've been doing it for longer and...it wears you down. And that's why every Victor you meet is actually a giant douchebag, because it numbs you."

Oh. That explains a lot actually. "Ciera wasn't a douchebag. Augustine was pretty nice too."  
"Yeah, they just want to seem normal to you because you're the newbie. I can't believe you like that guy just because he gave you some cheese."  
"Everyone else in 2 was a jerk!"

"That's Career districts for ya." Cheyenne leans back a little, suddenly straightening up before she can fall into the hedges. "But maybe they're on to something. If you groom kids for this kinda thing and convince them to volunteer, you can spare the ones that don't want to go. They kill everyone, win, cycle beings again."  
"I guess I see the point. Still disgusting though."

Cheyenne rolls her eyes and I laugh. "We really shouldn't be saying this."  
"You know what, I don't care. I think I've had at least four glasses of champagne already. That's some good shit. You should try some."  
"Cheyenne, I'm a teenager. Should you really be encouraging that?"

"Okay, fine, little Miss Teetotaler. Enjoy your night."

I fumble with my gloves a bit before finally ripping them off; my hands need a chance to breathe. I've more or less gotten used to the prosthetic fingers by now, although sometimes I stare down at them and just feel...I don't know...sad? Nostalgic? I can't really explain. It's not something you can into words. You just have to feel it.

It's like having a scar that will never fade away.

But, they're more of a reminder, if anything. I fought for my right to have them replaced; nobody would've bothered to care if I didn't live. And I guess it's pretty cool too. I'm thinking of getting them replaced with some more colourful ones instead.

I spend a few more minutes just watching the fountain in the sky, listening to the party chatter in the background. I can't stay here forever, though. Finally, I head back inside.

* * *

"What are you going to do now?"  
I just shrug. "I don't have any big plans. Is that a bad thing?"

"No. No it isn't."  
"I just wanna carry on with life. I have time to sort it all out, right? I mean, I'm not even 16 yet."

"Oh right," Troy muses. "Wow, I just noticed I don't even know when your birthday is."  
"May 1st. Give it a few months."

"Cool." He sits across from me, legs folded. "How was the Tour?"  
"How do you think it was?"  
"Did you meet my sister?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. Troy doesn't respond. Because I don't really know how he would respond. He's a figment of my imagination. I dream of him when I feel alone, broken, and I just need someone to talk to when there's nobody else who will understand.

It's selfish. But it works.

Troy opens his mouth to say something and that's when the world starts to shake. I open up my eyes to see Rhiannon standing over me. "Good morning, hun. Guess where we're going today?"  
"Back home? For real?"  
"Yep! Come have some breakfast."

I can hardly bring myself to eat. I just want off this train. Cheyenne watches me as she pretends to be interested in a fashion magazine she's holding. Rhiannon is always smiling every time I look at her. I realize I won't see her again for another six months.

When the announcement is made that we're only half an hour from District 10, I walk over to Rhiannon and give her a hug. "Thanks for everything."  
"Don't worry about it, alright? Don't worry about it."

Sadie is the first person I see when the train doors finally open. She tackles me in a giant hug and we almost tumble off the platform together.

The first order of business is a quick memorial for Whyllis. I notice that their bandmates are here, but their family didn't show up at all. I keep my distance and let everyone say their goodbyes. A few drumsticks are placed in a small pile, which will later be carried over to their grave.

Then the celebrations begin.

I meet up with Linus, Sadie, and the rest of our little group. We have a blast dancing to the music, cracking jokes, and running all over the place, looking for gold old District 10 grub to eat. Linus drags me to his family's stall, where he brags that they sell the best cupcakes in the entirety of Panem.

He's right. I eat three of them, just to be sure.

After people start requesting for some slower songs, Linus asks me to dance to one. "You know, for fun!"  
"Hey, why not?"  
"Alright, cool! So how do we..."

I just hold out my hands and he grabs them. As it turns out, neither of us knows how to dance. We just spin around a bit, giggling as I try to avoid stepping on his toes. The song probably only lasts a few minutes, but it feels a bit too short for me. As another song starts playing, Linus's parents approach us and ask him to go grab a few things from the restaurant.

I point towards some of the other stalls. "Take your time. I'm just gonna go get something to eat and look for everyone else. See ya later!"  
"You too, VR!" Linus gives me a funny salute, then runs off.

I wander around a bit until I run into Dr. Kristen. It's pretty funny seeing him in casual wear. But he's respectful as always. "Hello, Vera-Ryanna! What are you up to?"  
"Hi Dr. Kristen. I'm just looking for my friends."  
"That's good to hear. I wish you luck; there are quite a few teenagers on the loose tonight."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that would be them. By the way, have you tried the cupcakes from the Sang Eatery? They're really good!"  
"I guess I'll have to check them out. Take care of yourself, alright?"

I'm glad I chose to stick with that guy. He's been really helpful.

After buying a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches (which I insist on paying full price for, despite the vendor insisting on a so-called Victor's discount), I head off towards the pond Sadie and I like to chill next to. Sure enough, she's already there, pacing back and forth.

"Hey. Where is everyone?"  
"Max went to the bathroom, and Beau's getting everyone some snacks. Did you know they have cotton candy?"  
"Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah!" Sadie's eyes sparkle at the mention of all that sticky sugar. "But of course everyone wants some so I got bored of waiting in line. But Beau's there, so it's fine. He'll get it for us. And I have no clue where Linus went though."  
"Oh, he had to go get some stuff for his parents. Did you try their cupcakes, by the way?"

"I think I had one. You like them?"  
"Yeah, they're amazing! One of the Victors from 3 is sending over some baking recipes, so I think I'll give them to Linus."

Sadie gives me a funny look. "Oh? Do you like him?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"You know exactly what I mean!" She swipes one of the sandwiches away.

I shrug. "Well, duh! We're friends! Why wouldn't we be friends if we didn't get along?"  
"No, not like that! Are you doing this on purpose?"  
"No, I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Have you guys kissed yet?"

"I-" What? Sadie pokes my cheek and I can feel my face getting all flushed. "What kind of question is that?"  
"So...is that a no?"  
"Why can't a girl and a guy hang out without people feeling the need to question their status? We're friends and that's it!"

"Ooooh!" Sadie gasps. "You and Linus Sang are totally a thing!"  
"Are not!"  
"Are to!"  
"Sadie, shut up!"

"Oh relax, VR. I was just joking!"  
I break one of the sandwiches apart, leaving a large gooey cheese trail in between. "Well, it's none of your business."  
"You two would be really cute, you know."

I roll my eyes and try not to blush as Sadie goes on. "Vera-Ryanna Sang! how cool does that sound? Or maybe he'll take your last name instead?"  
"I swear to God, I'm gonna shove you into the pond."  
"You wouldn't dare to ruin a perfectly good grilled cheese sandwich, would you?"

Thankfully, Beau's shown up right about now with all the hot pink cotton candy that Sadie has been craving. I can see Linus coming up the road behind him, hands in his pockets. "Hey VR! Oh, I didn't realize you already got some food."  
"Well, no reason we can't have both, right?"  
"True, true." Beau holds the cotton candy up in the air, where Sadie can't reach. "Next time, Sadie, I'm making you get your own!"

"Who wants more cupcakes?" Linus asks, holding up a tray.  
Sadie grabs my hand and raises it up. "We do, we do!"  
"Guys, we should wait for Max first," Beau sighs.  
"Pssssssh." Sadie waves her hand. "Nah, ya snooze, you lose. And pass the candy, will ya?"

Slowly but surely, the sky grows dark. I realize that I've left everyone else behind to come here to the pond instead. And I don't care. I'd much rather hang out with my friends, my real friends, who accept me for who I am and aren't afraid to show it. Sure, things have been rocky once or twice and I still wake up at night screaming about tributes with knives and swords.

I've been through worse, after all.

Through the rainbows that shine over my head on the good days, and the storms that threaten to wreck me on the bad ones, I'll still be here after it all. I'll laugh if I want to and cry if I need to.

I will prevail.

* * *

**And we've done it! We've finally reached the end of VR's epic journey! I will admit, when I first started this story, I was worried I wouldn't even get to the training stage. But I've received so much support since I started this only a few months ago, that I just kept writing and writing and even started planning a sequel! Crazy to think I've gotten so far in such a short time!  
**

**Thank you to everyone who gave this story a read or submitted a tribute. It's so exciting to reach the end of yet another SYOT, especially when you can share it with others! And as we all knows, VR's tale is not done and will continue in my upcoming SYOT:**

**_Hearts of Glass and Gold_**

**The first prologue is also up, so fill free to check it out! And now, it's time I say goodbye to Rainbows and Storms as we move on to HGG instead. Thanks for reading!**

**-Vr**


End file.
